


Last Breath

by Kalla_Moonshado



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Magic Bondage, Major Injury, Masturbation, Near-Death Experience, Oral Sex, Resolved Emotional Turmoil, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Soul-Searching, These boys are insatiable, Tshion is stupid, Voyeurism, but I'm not going to quit on them, character injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: A Blood Elf Paladin and a Troll Mage - a very unlikely pair, and a very odd relationship. A journey of life, love, death, and the realization of what someone means to a certain Paladin.





	1. Felt Like Poison

**Author's Note:**

> World of Warcraft is NOT my creation.  
> Tshion Sunblade/Tshion Sunfire, Briyanna Soleilin and others ARE my creations.  
> Jelah Fira'tusk, Selarcis Sunfire and others are creations of my Fiance, and used with permission.  
> Other members of Fatalis, FeathermoonUS have cameos, characters used with/without permission.  
> Story Title/Chapter Titles are taken from lyrics of Evanescence - Holding My Last Breath and The Last Dance - Beautiful Again. I claim NO ownership of either song.  
> No money is made from the creation of this work or related works.  
> This work is not to be used without express permission of the author.  
> Part of this work has been Role-Played; scenes between my Fiance and myself. All scenes are used with permission.  
> This work was started before Warlords of Draenor was ever announced.

I. Felt Like Poison

“It's complicated.”

That's all I can ever really say.

I could say that I was betrothed. I could say I was promised. I could say that there was no ring, but the contracts were signed. I could say any number of things, and they would all be true.

I won't lie. I loved her. I loved her like any man loves the woman of his dreams. From the moment her house was under attack, the moment I pulled her into my arms and took the assassin's blades. From the moment I looked down and asked her if she was all right.

Right. I saw someone break in, and like a fool, I dove through the same window the assassin had just broken, rolled, and threw myself across a screaming girl before feeling the bite of steel in my back and shoulder, berating myself for being a fool all the while.

I did look down, though. I did ask if she was all right. She turned brilliant aquamarine-blue eyes to me and opened her mouth to thank me, but I never heard it. Her father stormed in, took care of the would-be assassin, and started shouting at me... I think.

Those blue eyes were depthless, and drew me into an abyss that only filled as I gazed. I presented her to her father, unscathed, before I collapsed.

When I woke, she was there, telling me the Healers put me back together, that her father was grateful, and that he agreed we should be married when I finished my training.

Married? Training?

I remember the confusion as I was suddenly training with elite warriors.

I remember not understanding when she came to me at night.

I remember falling hopelessly into those icy blue eyes, and forgetting the world.

We traveled together. We laughed together. We cried together. We fought together. I was her protector and guard from that moment, and was never far from her.

And then... THEY came. THEY came, and wiped out her family, her home, and though I thought I could save them all... I could only save HER. I held her back as she hurled magic unchecked at the.. things.. that tore her parents and sister apart. I pulled her away as they followed. I did things that night that I had no idea I was even capable of, destroying those things with pure force of will, even without my blade.

We fled to the inner city and were there when it all came crashing down. The pain was unfathomable. She clung to me, begged me to make it stop, and I could do nothing, staring into the sky to the north where flames rose high, where debris still fell.

It was all over, but the pain was horrific. I found an outlet for my rage, training as a Blood Knight. She fought to control her hunger, and finally, with encouragement, began to win. Our love for each other sustained us through the hardest nights, where the hunger was so intense that she begged shamelessly for me to take her somewhere other than “home”, somewhere she could find a being of magic and consume it whole. I soothed her out of these times, somehow.

One night, I woke alone; awakened by the absence of warmth beside me. She was gone.

“Aurelian?” I called to the still house, and there was no answer.

“Aurelian!” I shouted to the still city, and a few looked my way, pity in their eyes. They knew the anguish in my tone. One of them, a Farstrider, mutely pointed toward the gates, while another said the gold-haired, arcane-robed mage had left.

My heart sank, my face flushed. I knew she couldn't go far. I ran for the stables, and geared my charger, and it seemed even she understood the pain, for she bolted in the direction of the gates the moment I had balanced over her back in one stirrup.

I called her name through the woods, through the Ghostlands, and looked south, my heart aching as I approached the ruined gates, the Plaguelands stretching beyond them.

I asked anyone if they'd seen anyone matching her description. None could tell me where she had gone. It was as though she stepped through the Shepherd's Gate... and ceased to be.

For the second time in my life, my world crashed down around me. This time, though, it was ONLY my world. As I returned home, I remember the looks of empathy, sympathy, and even a few touches to my shoulders and arms, words of comfort, even from strangers.

It wasn't uncommon in those days. Many went mad. Some suicided. Others went Wretched. There was no shortage of us, returning from a hunt, looking as I did – broken. Defeated. Heart-sick.

I remember the soft words of only one passerby – a young priestess, with hair of red-gold. She paused just long enough to speak the blessing of the Light to me, her eyes full of pain. She told me that I couldn't wallow. I had to keep going. We all had to be strong or there would be none of us left. She turned and fled, but not before I saw the tears. She, too, had lost someone dear to her, then.

I remember so little about the next years that the only thing I can even say is that things changed. Our numbers, though few we were, were welcomed by Warchief Thrall into the Horde. The Blood Knights were treated to revelations. The Sunwell was restored. I had a hand in it all, but Sun be damned if I can remember any of it. I hardly even remember Outland – the remains of Draenor, if I recall – other than facing off against our Prince – who was so different that hardly any of us even knew him. I vaguely remember his master, Illidan, and seeing him fall at the top of Karabor, the Black Temple.

I do remember, however, the battle of the Plateau. I remember the Draenei Prophet breathing into each and every one of us new life, new hope, and stopping the constant pain, a pain that no others of my comrades in arms who were not Sin'dorei could never understand. Though they could all feel the warmth and welcome of the Well, they had never been stripped of it's warmth and constant pressure from the time of their birth. It was as though we were all born once again, the warmth and welcome, its power and constant hum in our veins was back. Different, yes, but it was THERE again, and for some of us, the revelation was deeper still – the Blood Knights, the Priest's orders, felt more of the Light's presence, and it gave us all the strength to heal others who were unused to it.

I vaguely remember the celebrations lasting long into the night.

It didn't matter.

None of it mattered to me. Aurelian never came back.

I was sure she would, now that the Sunwell was restored. I was sure she'd only been in hiding, waiting until it was safe to come home.

And then... shattering our fragile peace... THEY came again, in more numbers and stronger than when they destroyed the Sunwell – but they weren't after the Sunwell this time.

They wanted it all. It wasn't as though Azeroth herself was never in danger before – Hellfires, if Kael'thas and Illidan were successful, our very Sunwell would have served to allow the Burning Legion to pass unhindered from their wretched realm to our own, and nothing would be left... Azeroth would have ended up like Draenor.

This time, it was the Lich King. For me, it was personal. If it hadn't been for that bastard, Arthas Menethil, Aurelian would never have left, for the Sunwell would never have been destroyed, and her parents would never have died.

There was no question.

I volunteered at once to be sent to Northrend.

~~

Tshion Sunblade dropped his Hawkstrider quill back into its holder, and sighed, leaning back in his chair. He blinked as a hot mug of tea appeared next to his hand. The smile that spread across his face warmed him even as he picked up the mug, and looked up at the mage who put it there. “Thank you,” he called softly, across the room.

The grinning troll nodded as he opened another portal and a plate of cookies, and another cup of tea appeared beside Tshion. The mage crossed the room on foot, and settled himself in the chair beside the paladin.

Before now, he had not had the courage to write about his experiences, but considering the things that had begun happening, he had to think, and think hard, about the one question he had been asked over, and over, and over again here in Pandaria: “Why do you fight?”

Finally, he had his answer, and with that answer, came the courage to tell his own story. He knew he was not the only one this night, steadily dictating or writing their own memoirs, spending time with their loved ones.

Tshion picked up the mug and sipped it. “Taking no chances, Squishy?” He looked at the troll as he reached for a cookie.

To his credit, the mage made wide eyes and held up a three-fingered hand to his chest, saying nothing.

“I'll believe that the day you stop portaling things around.” Tshion took a bite of the cookie, ignoring the indignant snort that was the reply. He took a moment to finish the cookie before he spoke again. “It's all right. I know how you feel. It may be a long time before we get a chance to be alone again.”

The mage sighed and picked up his own mug. He watched Tshion over the rim of his mug. There was no fear in his eyes, and unlike the paladin, he was not concerned with writing his thoughts down. He knew the paladin would tell all that was needed. He smiled, warmly before reaching for a cookie.

Tshion looked up, returned the smile, set his mug down, dusted crumbs from his hands, picked up his quill, inked it, and resumed writing.

~~

I was assigned to Vengeance Landing in the Howling Fjord. It wasn't the worst place to be assigned, considering I'd heard a few stories that came across from Borean Tundra before I boarded the zeppelin in Tirisfal Glades.

“Boring Tundra” some had called it, though the name only worked if they had not attempted to go through the quarry that surrounded Warsong Hold. Apparently we lost more than we expected to that quarry. Some say the count was even higher than we lost to frostbite in Icecrown...

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My only companion for the journey, other than the flight crew, was a troll mage, who seemed quite happy dressed in light clothing. I started to wonder if he really knew where he was going, considering I had an extra pair of socks on already, not to mention the two layers of extra padding under my armor, and the extra cloak within easy reach. The journey would only take hours, according to the goblins running the transport, but warned that the cold could come on much faster than we'd believe.

The troll shrugged. I tugged the cloak I was wearing a little closer.

It was very odd – this troll did not seem to speak much, if at all. It's the only reason I remember him so well, at that point in time anyway. I've never known a troll to be silent, especially around blood elves. Polite? Yes, he was polite, just... silent.

He did, however, dress more warmly as the temperature dropped over the ocean. This proved, to me at least, that he was not brain-dead, or just completely insane, as many trolls I know personally to be.

I could go into sordid detail about the tasks I was assigned while I was at Vengeance Landing, but there's really no point. “Kill so and so”, “Gather these things”, “Courier this message”, “Go rescue someone's butt” … they all blurred together after a while.

I was set loose to travel the frozen wastelands after a few weeks, however, and found myself honing my skills against more than just the Scourge I expected.

I'll be one of the first to admit it: Northrend, as cold and frozen wasteland it seemed to be, was beautiful. Mountains and valleys, rivers and fields, forests and caverns, there was always something new to see, or some new threat to deal with, or even just something else that took my breath away, filled with history of days long forgotten.

Nothing noteworthy really happened to me for much of the journey. Oh certainly I ventured into Naxxramas, and I distinctly remember hearing about the rather embarrassing altercation between Hellscream and Wrynn shortly before we delved into Ulduar.

No, nothing really noteworthy happened to me until the Argent Crusade began the construction of the Tournament Grounds.

Perhaps I was drawn there because I'm a paladin. Perhaps it looked like something less gloomy than slaughtering undead all day, every day, every night. Perhaps it was because it forced both the Horde and the Alliance to stop bickering and work together for a change.

Not long after I arrived and had cleared many of the jousting challenges, I saw him again – the silent troll. He recognized me and waved, but headed off before I could do more than wave back.

So, he was also taken in by the lure of the tournament, was he? Good. As I mentioned before, he didn't seem brain-dead or insane, and that was all to the good, to my mind. Most of those of us who worked with the Argent Crusade were insane, and we needed more who actually had brains.

Days passed, slower than I liked, but probably much faster than it seemed. Jousting gets boring after a while, and wanting to feel the sting of the wind in your face while NOT riding a mount you are unused to gets kind of to be a priority. Don't get me wrong. Kodos are cute, but my legs are not meant for them.

The monotony broke at last. I could stop jousting quite so much and go do OTHER things for the Crusade. Joy.

Of course, this fell back into the “Kill these things”, “Save someone's butt” and “Go gather this” categories again. Well, perhaps “Someone” should stop needing their butt saved, and actually grow a brain and stop diving into trouble!

I didn't mind the others. The Cult of the Damned and all things undead were never going to stop multiplying if we didn't slaughter them, even though when we died... No. I would rather not think about it too much in detail. It was hard enough wondering if I had cut down Aurelian in this frozen waste. I didn't want to know or think about whether or not I was putting down fallen comrades.

The Wrath Gate was hard enough to stomach, and that, to this day, gives me nightmares, especially considering the other things that followed that horror. May Dranosh Saurfang and Bolvar Fordragon rest in as much peace as they may after that debacle, and their comrades in arms with them.

The cultists were the worst. The more we all cut down, the more replaced them. Where did they FIND these lunatics anyway? It wasn't as though they were all human, either, or all undead, or … whatever. No, they came from a lovely large selection of every humanoid on Azeroth. Then again, I did always amuse myself by slaughtering the gnomes... Kicking them off the cliff into the ocean was always satisfying, and I wasn't offending anyone.

Well, other than perhaps the Lich King.

Besides killing cultists and their undead minions – or dragons, in one case – it was usually necessary, at least once a week to save a very stupid, but very brave paladin named Kul. The urge to punt that dwarf off a cliff was high, but even I had to admire his brass hangers sometimes. He never let anything keep him down, even as he threw himself at the cult. Often. Recklessly. Like an idiot.

It was actually Kul that made me find Mr. Silent again, cheerfully setting things on fire around the camp, and giggling (yes, trolls can apparently giggle) as they ran off the edge of the cliff into the freezing cold waters below.

There was a mutual glance – first at Kul, then at each other. We were tasked with the same thing. All right. That just meant the job would go more quickly. Slaughter cultists, rescue Kul, get power orbs from the magicking maniacs and of course get our people out of there.

As a team, we razed the camp, left no one behind, and professed ourselves quite satisfied when the camp was deserted. We turned to head back to the tournament grounds, but I had a very bad feeling about something. Before I could turn, my silent companion was casting something at someone or something behind us.

The only thing I remember thinking was “where the bloody hell did THAT come from?” I turned, drawing my blade once again, and re-balancing my shield on my arm. This thing wasn't going to go down easily, whatever, or whoever it was, and it was pissed. Moreso now that its head was on fire.

Another one appeared out of nowhere, effectively splitting us. Mr. Silent split to finish the first one, and I turned to face this new one. Ugly, rotting, skeletal – All I remember about it could be summed up in those three words. Well, other than it being a decent fighter. It could dodge faster than I could swing, and the hammer in its hands, on a stray swing that I barely got out of the way of, smashed an iron cage.

I wear plate stronger than iron, but my bones are NOT made of iron. That hammer, and the force behind it, would reduce me to a Titanium box of blood and mush. No, thank you.

Unfortunately for me, I was already tired. I was slower than I should have been. Sloppy. I let this thing corner me. By the time I was wondering when my shield would split in two, I had forgotten that a mage was out there, somewhere. I rolled as it swung the hammer down, landing where I had been seconds before.

Did I mention I was tired, sloppy, and by then, stupid? I tripped and fell face-first into blood-stained snow.

The next few moments happened in slow motion. I remember turning and seeing the hammer in the air, falling, slowly. I turned further, raising my shield, and doing the calculation that I would never get it up and in position in time. I closed my eyes and waited for Death to come.

It didn't. Instead I heard the crackle of freezing material. I cringed, still waiting, thinking to myself that it was a horrible way to die – not only was that thing going to crush me, but freeze me as well?

When several seconds passed, and I didn't feel the crushing pain, and my heart was still beating, loudly in my chest, and my breath still puffed out in tiny clouds as I shivered on the frozen ground, surrounded by bloody snow, I opened an eye and looked up.

There was a hammer inches from me, encased entirely in ice, as though someone had dumped a bucked of water on it and it had flash-frozen. No... the thing that was holding it was encased in ice, entirely. I shifted, slightly, rolling out from under it, just in case.

There was a clinking sound, and the entire being shattered, hammer and all. I winced away again, not knowing if I was next.

I found a hand extended to me, attached to a very silent troll, grinning at me cheerfully as though he had found me in a bar fight, and not here of all places. His other hand gripped a staff, which he had used to shatter my attacker.

I reached up and took the proffered hand and gathered myself to rise to my feet. Before I could do more than balance myself, I was hauled to my feet. This troll didn't LOOK Zandalari, nor did he look Zul'drak, or one of those hulking brute-types that were more bulk than brain. I overbalanced, and fell forward.

I have to pause here for a moment. This moment in time was one that would change everything – and I do mean, everything.

I fell forward against Mr. Silent. Instead of simply steadying me, I felt a pair of warm arms wrap around my back and hold me steady. I remember wondering if he was actually hugging me, or trying to keep me from going into shock. I remember that he was wearing only that robe and a light cloak, but he radiated warmth that sank through my armor, through the padding, and touched my skin.

For a single moment, I didn't feel awkward, I felt safe in a place where there was none to be had. I remember lifting my arms to hug him back. For that moment, the world fell away.

It took me a few moments to realize what was happening, and I looked up. Our eyes met. We broke apart, hastily.

The damage was done.

We returned to camp with our proof that our tasks had been completed. Mutually, we found baths, dinner, and space to sleep.

And this went on for several weeks. We never said much to each other, never even exchanged our names, but we fought, back to back, against whatever Icecrown could throw at us.


	2. Dream and Still Remember

II. Dream and Still Remember

Tshion reached for his mug again, not knowing how much time had passed, engrossed in his writing. His quiet companion was lost in a book beside him. Tshion looked up at the clock, and winced.

Time was running out.

The troll looked up. There was not fear, exactly, in his eyes, but a kind of resigned understanding. Tshion hated that look. There was something his companion wasn't telling him, something he'd seen, something he knew. Usually this didn't mean much, but on the eve of a battle like this...

Tshion opened his mouth to speak, but his companion shook his head, then smiled, and his eyes dropped back to the journal in front of him. Keep writing, he was saying, without speaking. Tshion shifted, and put his quill down. Before he could do more than that, his hand was seized and skillful fingers were massaging the tension from them.

There was something wrong. There was a desperation in that touch that had nothing to do with the dose of mageroyal in the tea. Those quiet eyes were speaking without speaking, saying he foresaw something and wasn't telling.

“Jel-” A finger was pressed to the paladins lips, and the troll shook his head, then returned to the massage.

Tshion picked up his mug with the other hand, surprised to find it still warm. He drained the rest of the tea just as the mage released his hand with a soft squeeze. By the time the paladin looked up, the troll was immersed in his book once more.

Sighing, Tshion patted the mage's knee in thanks, and picked up his quill once more.

~~

The eve of the initial assault on Icecrown Citadel was cold. Not that Northrend wasn't always cold, but the bitter wind that shook the enclosures was a prelude to the knowledge that it would soon be over, and the Lich King knew it.

All of us were silent that night, sharing drinks and general comraderie. That night, it didn't matter who we were – Horde, Alliance, none of it mattered. All of us knew the dawn would bring the end.

We all knew we should sleep, and none of us did, waiting in the hours before dawn with a last mug of liquid courage to keep us warm.

My comrade was fidgeting, something he usually never did. He was not a part of that first assault, but would be a part of another wave. We had not been separated for weeks, and it felt odd to not have him at my back.

The command came. The first wave rose as the grey of pre-dawn touched the sky.

I don't need to tell the tale of the failure. It is recorded in history books already. We were rebuffed, again and again.

Many were sent home – returned to their families, or to their faction leaders, silenced forever, but we left no one behind. None of us were willing to let the Lich King have another of us to turn against us.

The operation was aborted after five waves. Casualties were high; morale was low.

Many of us were told to go, collect ourselves, and then return when we felt … “ready” was the word used, but all of us knew that we had to go find the reasons and the resolve to take the monster down, once and for all.

For a long time, I didn't know if my troll mage had survived his wave. We were scattered, our hearts heavy, and for a few months, the only news was that someone had managed to find a side-door, and Jaina Proudmoore and Lady Sylvanas were leading the assault there. Many went in. Few returned. I was called to the task, of course, but all we discovered was that the Lich King was much stronger than we thought, and the only reason we survived was luck. Pure. Luck.

I went to Dalaran, and found myself lodging at the Ledgerdemain – one of the more prominent inns in the city.

There, the nightmares began. Always hunting something elusive, I chased wisps of smoke and light, trying to catch up to something that was always just out of my reach. The nightmares were silent, always, even if I tried to speak. I woke from these with the feeling that I had to DO something. I had to be somewhere, to find something, or Something Horrible would happen.

There was another dream, though, that was more puzzling. I never could figure much of it out, even to this day, penning this. It had something to do with my troll companion. What it was, I don't know. I still don't know. This dream stopped … well. I'll get to it.

I thought perhaps I would find something there that could help us. I spent time in the libraries, looking for anything that could possibly help us all find an edge. I was not the only one with this thought.

One of the nicer things about Dalaran was a similar atmosphere to the tournament grounds – Alliance and Horde could work together without caring who was who.

I found a human mage who had studied paladin lore, and pointed me in the direction of some very old tomes from Uther's time.

I remember fondly a dwarf paladin who helped me decipher the language it was in, and we both learned much over those days in one of the many libraries, where we were joined by others. Blood Knight, Silver Hand, Argent Dawn – it mattered not what discipline we were from, we studied together, learned from each other, sparred without venom, and honed ourselves carefully into stiletto-sharp blades of justice.

Ugh. That was too poetic even for me. I'm getting sentimental.

Anyway.

I spent my evening hours surrounded by ink and parchment, scrolling runes into complicated glyphs, trying to find something that might give us an edge in battle. One afternoon, I found myself out of ink, parchment, and my last quill point had snapped.

I had no idea how much time I had spent until then, poring over journals, herb-lore, my hands stained with ink and pure pigments.

I looked at the time, and winced. I was supposed to witness a new paladin joining the ranks of the elite.

I should probably explain.

While all of us, the paladins, had trained, we cast aside our own differences, and began attending the others' ceremonies. At first there was a little resentment, and it turned to welcome. We were all warriors of the Light after all, whether that Light came from the Sun or from wherever it is the Silver Hand discipline found it.

Silver, black, red and gold are colors I never thought would go so well together. The ceremonial armor I had was silver and gold, trimmed with red and black. Silver for the Silver Hand and Argent Dawn and Crusade, red, black and gold for my own Blood Knight order. All of us had done something to our plain ceremonial plate to honor the others – all of us. It was touching, and it actually sparked more of the same among other orders; the mages, priests, and shaman all were doing similar things, and it was heartwarming to see.

Back in that time, it seemed that a common foe may finally have dissolved the animosity the Horde and Alliance had against each other, at least at times. It may have only been that we all knew that if we killed each other, it was one more weapon handed over to the Lich King.

The ceremonies were only ever held once a week, never more, sometimes less. A tauren female was to be inducted into the Crusade that night, and it was warming to see that instead of just the traditional dwarven, human, draenei and sin'dorei paladins, others were going against their own traditions to become wielders of the Light.

Her oath was strong and clear, and all of us could feel the tangible pride from the others, and though many lingered after, I had things to do. Spending more than an hour or two in that armor was chafing, besides. I longed to be rid of it.

On my way back to my lodging above the Ledgerdemain Inn, I paused to pick up the supplies I needed in the scribe's library across from the inn.

Call me sentimental, but ever since I left the tournament grounds, I had begun using journals of a gently-faded sky blue. It reminded me of my silent companion, the one that haunted my dreams and left me shaking when I woke.

I had no idea what THAT particular dream meant either, at the time. Two dreams and a nightmare of Something Horrible. No wonder I slept so little.

If it wasn't Something Horrible waking me in a cold sweat, it was one of the others, waking me in a warm sweat and in a very embarrassing position.

Nevermind sentimental. It was perverse, that I fed this with those journals. The color was soothing, though, as though just by seeing that color, something in me was calmer.

It was about to come to closure, at last, though, and two of the dreams were going to stop, that night.

As I stepped out of the library and paused, thinking of getting a drink (and having my stomach protest that I wasn't thirsty, I was hungry), I heard a voice that I had only ever heard once before – a shout of “Behind you!”.

“Greetings!” it said.

I looked up from the journal I was admiring the silk binding of, and my heart stopped. The color of a softly-faded sky just before twilight takes it met my eyes. Cheerful eyes and a mop of ocean-blue hair. A grin that went beyond a greeting.

I never thought I would see that face again. Especially not so clean, well-groomed, and my knees felt weak, my heart was pounding and I could feel my face splitting into the first heart-felt smile I'd displayed in months, a smile that I could feel in my ears.

I managed to stop myself from blurting out “I thought I'd never see you again!” I'm not entirely certain how, though. Instead, I kept it simple as I pulled off one of the ceremonial plate gloves and offered him my hand, greeting him with a simple “Well-met, my friend.”

I saw his eyes dart to the journal still held against my chest with my other arm, even as he took my hand and asked me how my travels had been.

His voice was liquid gold, but his speech was so... odd. It was stunted. Not stuttering, but clipped and slow, as though he had trouble finding words in the right language. Perhaps it was just that, I remember thinking, since I think he was actually talking to me in Thalassian, and not in Orcish.

I babbled. I couldn't stop the flow of words as I told him that things were boring, that it seemed to be calming, as indeed, the attacks were at a standstill, but it was the calm before the storm. And that storm was building to a head rapidly. I blurted out that I was lonely without a traveling companion.

I covered it by inviting him to have a drink with me... only to have my traitorous stomach put in its two copper, and amended that to dinner.

I never expected the acceptance to come so fast or so exuberantly.

When I asked him if he was staying in Dalaran, he opened a small portal, the size of my hand, to show me his home – which I thought odd for two reasons. One, I'd never seen such a tiny portal before, and two, he wasn't afraid to show me his home.

I kept forgetting that mages never had to “stay” anywhere they didn't want or need to, able to portal, or teleport, themselves home with a word.

Either way, before I could settle comfortably to dinner, I had to change. We met back up in the Ledgerdemain's common room, where I found him waiting.

When I asked him if he had been waiting long, he said no, but once again it was clipped. He frowned and started pulling things from his small bag, and asked me to wait as he did something with a bit of what looked to me like alchemy, but what did I know from alchemy and magery? I'd spent a lot of time with mages in my life, considering Aurelian had been one, and all of them did some very Odd Things.

He drank the result of his alchemic or magery thing.

And then he spoke, explaining why he talked the way he did. His mind moved faster than his mouth could follow. The concoction was Essence of Agony, or, the primary ingredient to mind-numbing poison, and a steeping of Mageroyal.

Guilt flooded me; I never meant to make him uncomfortable. Then again, we had been fighting back to back for weeks with never a word, other than instruction or confirmation. We shared a mind then, and could anticipate each other like we were trained together to counter each other.

Perhaps it was he who did it all, and could see through me, and count three steps ahead of what I would do, and he conformed to my style the whole time.

He said he didn't like using the whatever-it-was because it slowed his mind, and made him slower in combat. I understood. No one wants to go into a combat zone less than the best they can possibly be.

Dinner passed quietly, other than a scuffle over the bill, which he took care of before I could move. That was the first of MANY encounters of this crazy mage's “tiny portals”, which haunt me to this day. He expressed wanting to see my room, since I'd mentioned that it was full of books, but we decided to go for a walk in the twilight air first.

And then... another life-changing moment took us both as we adjourned to the purple parlor for our dose of evening air. As we gazed out over the mountains of the Storm Peaks, he turned, and told me his name.

It was a break in whatever barriers we had with each other. I greeted Jelah Fira'tusk, and the longing in his eyes with my own name. Before we left, he had pulled me into another hug, even less expected than the one in Icecrown.

I didn't even pretend, this time. I hugged him back. I felt that warmth I had before, and reveled in it. My body, traitorous it was, started doing things of its own accord. I found myself nuzzling him as we talked. I told him I thought I would never see him again, and would never have known the name of the mage who saved my life. He assured me I would have lived either way.

I found my lips against the corner of his mouth before I could even so much as register the thought. It was just a brush, but I think that was the spark that doomed us both.

It was awkward, getting back to my room, where he explained the tea I had been drinking that I had thought was a relaxant was a mild aphrodisiac. It was more awkward, the things that happened afterward.

Both of us were tensed more than harp-strings about to snap under the strain.

I will never forget the awkward touches, the need, the want, the desperation we shared, nor will I ever forget the long talk after.

The dreams of the troll stopped. I surmise now it was because he was there. And we were never to be parted again, even now.

We traveled through Northrend once again, this time determined to fine-tune the way we fought together. When we set foot in Icecrown Citadel, we were ready, far more than we were before the Argent Crusade managed to breach the gates.

We had some near-misses. The Healers who were with us cursed us for being careless as they put us back together, but all-in-all, it was a success. One by one, the Lich King's minions, his generals, and his halls fell. Tirion was unable to save either Dranosh Saurfang or Bolvar Fordragon, but.. then again, we couldn't either.

When the Lich King fell, it was over. We left, and sounds of rejoicing echoed across Azeroth. Celebrations and memorials were scheduled and conducted, and for a time, we were at peace.

Peace does not last, ever, on Azeroth, however. It just doesn't.

The Cataclysm tried us next. Deathwing's return was not expected, nor was it an event that we could take lightly. It was... not an easy thing for any of us to deal with. We never let it get to us, and though our world turned upside down for quite a bit of it, we simply dealt with it as it progressed.

Well, until Hellscream made the mistake of saying things to Vol'jin, Sylvanas and Lor'themar that he probably should have kept behind his teeth.

Unwelcome in Orgrimmar? Members of the Horde? It was an outrage that instead of being welcomed, we were... tolerated. Jelah was over the moon about the Darkspear reclaiming the Echo Isles, but was less so when Hellscream all but threw Vol'jin and the rest of his people out – or banished them to the slums.

Orgrimmar had changed, drastically, after the Elements went berserk. I, for one, felt safer, more secure in the primitive city it was before. The clink of iron under my boots, the gleam of spikes on all of the buildings, even the simplest living quarters, turned my stomach. Oh sure, Orgrimmar was never Silvermoon City, but it was never cold, unfeeling, unwelcome.

For many of the Horde, I think the real Cataclysm was the sudden rupture of the bonds we shared. For some, losing Thrall and gaining Hellscream was more than they could handle. The cities turned quieter, as many simply vanished into the shadows, or returned home, ignoring the calls to arms, and blatantly refusing to lift a finger to help the new Warchief at all.

Some of us heeded the call, but we didn't do it for HIM. Some of his orders actually fell in line with, you know, saving Azeroth instead of slaughtering Night Elves or punishing our allies because they didn't suck up enough, or in one case, killing people because they didn't celebrate the slaughter of innocents – but I'm ahead of myself again.

Deathwing's rampage was a race against time, and took more than just a few adventurers and a few champions to stop.

It seemed as though Azeroth herself was the only thing that could stop him, and so Azeroth herself rose up in the Aspects and our World Shaman. It's a good thing that Thrall found his calling and heeded it. Sure, he may have left an ignoramus in his place, but he was the missing link in it all. From the short time we traveled with the orc, I know I felt kind of sorry for him. It seemed that some of the very Elements were afraid to allow him to come to be. Talk about Tempered Steel.

~~

Tshion looked up as he felt warmth by his hand. A fresh mug was beside him, and filled with – “Chocolate? Are you bribing me to work faster?”

The troll shook his head and smiled, pointing at Tshion's hands. Frowning, the paladin looked down. His nails were blue. “What the...?” He looked back up. “How long have I been...?”

The mage frowned for a moment, then shrugged, holding out his hands.

Tshion set down his quill again, then offered his right hand, while his left wrapped around the mug. “I'm sorry this is taking so long.”

The mage leaned down as he took the paladin's hand and began to massage it again, working circulation back to normal, and kissed the paladin's cheek. “Important.”

“But I've kept you waiting, and now I'm probably keeping you up.” Tshion frowned. “I'm sorry, Squishy... I honestly didn't think that-” he was silenced by another soft kiss. “All right, I'll stop fussing over it. I promise I'll be done soon.” He leveled a look at the mage that was filled with heat. “Whether or not I actually finish this.”

This startled a soft chuckle out of the troll as he worked his thumbs into the web of Tshion's hand, and the blood elf sighed in pleasure. At least until the mage found a knot, which drew a sharp intake of breath until it had been worked free.

“I wish I'd started this a long time ago. I wouldn't have spent all day on this. We should have been spending this day together.”

A snort. “We are.” A kiss was pressed to the paladin's palm, then the hand was released.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is going to be a long journey; please be patient.  
>  Constructive Crit, reviews, etc. are always welcome.
> 
> Until next time...


	3. Dream and Not Surrender

Tshion flexed his hand. The ache was starting to get into places not even the mage's magic hands could soothe away. He needed to finish this mess, and soon. He glanced at the clock again. Precious moments were slipping away, and here he was, writing out his life-story instead of spending the time with his mate.  
  
He looked at the mage, and reached up to brush the blue skin of his cheek, just beyond one tusk. The mage closed his eyes at the touch, then nuzzled against the hand there. With a heartbreakingly sweet smile, the troll reached out to take Tshion's other hand to administer a similar treatment, giving the paladin time to enjoy the warmth of the chocolate.

“You spoil me,” the blood elf said softly.

The troll shook his head. “Deserved,” the reply came, the voice muted, filled with emotion. Tshion blinked several times, rapidly. It wouldn't do for tears to destroy the words across the pages he'd been laboring over for so long.

A thumb brushed softly at the blood elf's eye before the hand retreated. Both hands moved to squeeze the paladin's left hand, then allowed the paladin to get back to work with another soft kiss to each of the pale palms.

~~

I say Tempered Steel, but perhaps I should have been a bit more clear. It wasn't the Elements themselves. It was what the Elements were tortured to think, or feel, or whatever it is they have that makes them understand friend from foe. Either way, I'm not sure, even with Jelah by my side, I could have survived what he had to, cast to the Four and needing to find balance within, and without.

Okay, so Air, Water and Earth weren't so scary. Fire?  I thought we were going to be roasted into … well. If all of us have that within us, I fear for us all.

Then again, Mr. World Shaman did have quite a bit that he just sat on and let stew. It was a reminder to us all what could happen if we never open our mouths to express a bit of selfish desire once in a while.

Of course, there are some who don't have that problem.

Deathwing himself turned out to be … well, a pussy cat compared to some of the other horrors we faced. Of course, we just had to keep him distracted while the Aspects worked. We kept interrupting his spells and incantations, keeping him focused on the “pests” as the Aspects pooled their considerable power into one focus to finish him for good.

I never want to see the Maelstrom again.

Once again, peace came. Our next trial seemed to be entirely by accident, but was preceded by something I don't even want to put to writing; I'd almost prefer it left to history books. But history books can be altered over time as they are rewritten. At least if I offer it, there is a chance this tome will be found, and my account might match others' to tell the truth.

I speak, or write, of Theramore. Mindless. Insane. Stupid. Pointless. Cruelty beyond anything I could ever have imagined. What was done is utterly unforgivable, and the damage to the entirety of Azeroth is irreversible.

Hellscream overstepped. Everything.

I've seen my fair share of skirmishes along the coast of the Barrens, and Jelah's told me of  similar ones off the coast of Durotar. The Alliance encroachments, in truth, were sometimes justifiable, but some were just... Not.

If the Alliance was settled somewhere, the Horde tended to settle across the map from them. It wasn't peaceful, per se, but it was respected. The reverse was also true. In this way, we co-existed, in sometimes bloody ways, sometimes peaceful ones. It depended on the temper of those involved, the time of day, the phase of the moons, the rise of the tide.

Theramore was one such established place. It rested in the bay in Dustwallow Marsh, far south of Durotar. Thrall had long cultivated a peaceful co-habitation with the harbor town, mostly due to his tentative peace truce with Jaina Proudmoore. Never had Theramore launched an attack on Orgrimmar, nor had Orgrimmar launched an attack on Theramore, even though it would have been easy for either to occur.

Not only did Hellscream attack, he double-crossed the Blue Flight to do so, and he didn't just go after the harbor, after armed warriors. He leveled the entire city, killing the Archmage of the Kirin Tor, Rhonin. This was a blow to every soul on Azeroth who had ever set foot into Dalaran. Rhonin never cared what side we were on, just that we kept peace while we were in the city, which, as I'd mentioned, was so pivotal in our defeat of the Lich King.

Hellscream's actions caused that to fall apart. Any of the Horde working in Dalaran were either killed or imprisoned if they couldn't escape when the Purge began sometime later.

He nearly killed Kalecgos, the Blue Aspect of Magic. He barely missed Lady Proudmoore, who, we came to find out later, had been rescued by Rhonin in his dying instant.

Hellscream dropped the Eye of Eternity on Theramore, detonating it, and leveling Theramore to mana-dust.

Warriors. Citizens. Children.

It makes me sick just thinking about it now. Remember how I'd mentioned earlier that some were killed for not sucking up?  After Theramore was destroyed, Hellscream ordered a celebration to honor the Horde for destroying the threat.  
  
Threat. A peaceful harbor town, honoring a peace treaty of sorts with Orgrimmar even after Thrall had gone.

Those who did not celebrate, instead spending time in the inn of Razor Hill, were killed when charges were set in the inn itself, and the inn was rebuilt without a word, and the dead were not honored, apart from those who also disagreed. Quietly.

It was the final straw for many of us.  
  
The only distraction was the discovery of Pandaria. We may have been ordered there to “paint it red”, but for most of us, Pandaria was a journey of self-discovery, more than a conquest. Truly a land like no other with a people that taught us more than even the most senior of us more than we had learned in our entire lifetimes. At least, it was for me for certain.

For such peaceful place, it had its own conflicts, and a very unique way of dealing with them. Life in Pandaria has seemed like a dream. So much rich history to learn, from times the rest of Azeroth has forgotten, so many places to explore of the like we have never seen.

Some of the Pandaren there seemed to shun us as outsiders, but gradually, even they found that all of us fight with ferocity and were not adverse to aiding with even the simplest of tasks. How could we say no to a people who found us on their shores, at war, but still accepted us, allowed us to learn from them and their ways, and shared knowledge, history and the way to find ourselves?

I thought I knew myself fairly well – a paladin of the Light, follower of the Sun, basking in the glow of the Sunwell, descended from elves of old, some thousands of years old even to this day. We Blood Elves are a proud people.  
  
But Pandaria taught me a little more. I am vain. I do not appreciate all that there is in life. I look down upon others who are just as noble, just as rich in history, and just as deserving of respect. Of this, I am not proud, but I have found myself changing here. I have found my opinions of other peoples changing.  
  
At first, I found the Undead – the Forsaken – rather disgusting. Shallow. Each and every one of them overcame a grave (nearly literally) affliction, regained their own minds, and each of them may be a little odd, but they do not shirk anything laid in front of them, ignoring whispered insults, and pulling their weight when it comes time for them to do so. So much weighs on them that I would crumble under the constant burden, yet they have risen up above it all, and I value their friendship as I would anyone else.  
  
The Orcs I found brutish barbarians, savages who did not even know that they should bathe. I learned a little of them in Outland, but even then, I did not appreciate their history, how they have evolved. I thought they were all stupid. But how could such a people produce Shamans throughout their history, lore-keepers and storytellers?  How could those who use magic have learned the arts of the Arcane that I take for granted among my people if they were not intelligent?  How could such a people have produced someone such as Thrall, whose sharp mind and quick reflexes aided the very Aspects to defeat Deathwing?  They do not hunt for sport, and I hear them thanking the very spirits of Life itself for the provision of food, leather for homes and clothing, furs for warmth, and bones for tools and ornamentation. This is certainly not the behavior of savages, nor is their reverence for their ancestors, which they hold in the highest honor.

I had overlooked Goblins for years, since many of the cartels are neutral; but having them within the Horde was a bit of a blessing for us all. There was so much we could do with so many minds, all focused on not only being thrifty but also with the invention of so many things I never thought possible. Instead of the greedy little shrubs I once saw them as, I see them now as quick thinkers who can come up with solutions from just what is at hand for so many situations. They can create things from practically nothing.  
  
The Pandaren I found very... frivolous in their ways. I am no stranger to fine foods and fine drink, but they enjoy with almost indecent sincerity. Their passive, leisurely way made me think they were lazy, but they have a philosophy that essentially states that one should work hard, but never too much, and take the time to enjoy what is around them, play hard so that when it is once again time to work, one is not resentful that they did not have time to rest, relax and enjoy their lives. By learning to live with that, I think we have all – well, almost all – become better people, even those of the Alliance!

The Tauren have long been a joke among my people, and only in Pandaria have I realized that far from being walking barbeque menu items, they are a people of rich nomadic history and reverence of the very places they are. From the Sky to the Sun to the very Earth on which they walk, the creatures they hunt, they revere each and every one, as the Orcs do. I would gladly have a Tauren at my back any day, for they are loyal and fierce fighters.

The Trolls are another story altogether. Like the Orcs, I thought them unwashed, cannibalistic barbaric savages who wanted little more than to slaughter anything in their path, and then eat it. Then again, I grew up battling the Amani, who are a very different people than other tribes. The Darkspear, by comparison, are as civilized as we are. They may practice some unorthodox magics, and perform blood-sacrifice, but just like every other race in the world, they have their extremes to one side or the other. Of course, at this point in time, I may be biased, considering Jelah is rather cleanly, well-groomed, and has very little Troll accent, other than when he is very tired, or drunk, which is rare. The spirits they serve are no different that revering the Elements, the Arcane, the Earth, the Sky, or the Sun or Moon.

Even the races of the Alliance I have learned are not just the entitled whiners I have thought they were all this time. I once worked with humans and dwarves. I didn't much appreciate the way we were used at the time. Over time, I think we all have learned something, and they aren't as demanding, it seems. The Alliance as a whole has become more united, and I'm certain that Pandaria had a hand in that as well.

We have triumphed over many things here, native problems such as the Mogu, the swarming Mantid, the Sha themselves, and now...

And now...

Here we are, on this eve of battle, once again looking at trouble we never asked for, but found ourselves in.

Jelah and I have been through it all together, and though I cannot state his thoughts, I know that we both have learned from our experiences. This day, this night, we spend together now, knowing it could all end tomorrow.

We go to Orgrimmar tomorrow. Orcish history will tell what has happened to lead up to this. Garrosh MUST be put down. Hellscream is a maniac, and not even the Orc I could respect back in Warsong Hold. Once again, an Old God has gotten involved, and while I suspect it is not entirely the Orc's fault, he has fallen prey to it, proving he is not as strong as he has always claimed to be.

It will be difficult. It will probably be painful, not physically, to see Orgrimmar like this. Yes, the Orc city had become like a second home to me over the years, as I tend to follow Jelah more than he does me.

Pandaria's denizens have asked us all, time and time again “Why do we fight?”

We fight to protect the things we love. We fight to honor those before. We fight so we may live another day.  
  
We fight so others do not have to.

I fight for my guild companions, my comrades-in-arms across both Horde and Alliance, and most of all, my shield-mate, for not only him, but for all that we both stand for.  
  
I fight to see justice done.

And it will be done.

Justice will come.

~~

Tshion put the quill back in its holder again, then sanded and pressed the last few lines and then blew them to brush the sand away. Once he was sure the ink was dry, he closed the book and his ink bottle.

Arms wrapped around him from behind. “Finished?”

“Yes, I'm done. I just... I hope-” A tusk slid across his cheek and lips pressed firmly against his own, silencing him.

“Said... enough.”  The lips moved against Tshion's ear, sending shivers down the paladin's spine. A soft bite promised more to come, and Tshion melted into that touch, just as it vanished.

Blinking, Tshion turned around to where the mage had been, but was no longer. He was across the room, curiously poking at a platter of pastries.

Tshion sighed, and shook his head as he moved his lap-desk to the chair beside his and moved to join his companion across the guild-hall's common room. “Tempting me with sugar now?”  His answer was a plate filled with several pastries. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were not sugary, but filled with many different things. Tshion chuckled, sensing a certain priestess' hand in this appearance.

It wasn't uncommon for food to randomly appear on the common room's buffet tables, after all. There were many cooks among them, and no one cooked only for themselves, and no one felt obligated to cook at all. Platters, tureens, bowls and racks appeared with regularity, but at random intervals.

Tshion had once offered to aid in the kitchen, but instead of being a help, he had set it on fire.

Jelah had proven that he was at least somewhat capable, so had not, like his mate, been banished from the kitchen. Knowing his mate had an incurable sweet-tooth, however, meant his contributions were often in the form of something portable, such as cookies or finger-cakes.

The pastries that had appeared were a particular favorite of one of the guild-mates, and one that she shared often and without discrimination. Flaky pastry wrapped around meats, vegetables, cheeses, or fruits baked until golden were one of the priest's specialties, liking finger-foods, but wanting variety. Each pastry was shaped according to what was inside – meat ones were square, vegetables triangle, fish diamond, cheese round, and half-round for fruit. The plate Tshion now held contained a variety of shapes, and the mage lifted an eyebrow at him as he blinked at it.

“Okay, okay, I'll eat.”  The paladin rolled his eyes, and moved to put his plate down on the table between the chairs the two had occupied before returning to the buffet tables. There were always drinks set out, courtesy of the retired mage who tended the halls – iced and hot both. He filled two glasses with iced fruit juice and carried them back, setting them on the table as well.  
  
Jelah was busy with the concoction for his mind. Tshion frowned. He didn't like the need for it, but understood that it frustrated his mate to be unable to carry a normal conversation without it.

A few moments after they had settled, they were joined by the priestess in question carrying a plate and a glass of her own. “Mind if I join you for a little?”

“Of course not!” Jelah replied as he put his things away and settled himself in his chair.

Tshion smiled at the priestess. It was pure happenstance that they had met so long ago, and her words had kept him going for so long, and he had thanked her the moment he realized he joined the guild she was in. It was this priestess, with hair of red-gold who had once blessed him and told him to just keep going; to be strong. He never asked her who it was she lost, and she never offered the information, but they shared a knowing look at one another often, knowing they had each lost someone dear to them so long ago.

“Nervous?” Briyanna asked quietly as she sipped her drink.

“I'm not sure about nervous. It's the eve of a great battle. I feel the same way as I did before taking on the Lich King or Deathwing.”  Tshion replied. He frowned as he picked up a square from his plate. “No. I feel more determined, if anything.”

“The Lich King and Deathwing were never people we were supposed to trust and follow,” Jelah added, quietly.

The priestess smiled sadly. “I'm angry, and beyond. I have a feeling many feel the same, but if we let anger dictate what we do...”

“We may as well not go. It will make us sloppy and vulnerable.”  Tshion nodded, nibbling at the square. “It's not as though we have not all trained for this in some way, shape or form. The Pandaren have taught us all quite a bit.”

“It's the Alliance that makes me nervous. How many of them will take the opportunity to wipe us out along with Hellscream?” Briyanna sighed around a bite of pastry. “I mean, after Theramore...”

“I don't think so. I think anyone in this battle must know that any Horde members present did not want what happened there,” Jelah pointed out.

Briyanna's expression cleared a little, and she nodded thoughtfully, picking apart a triangular pastry in her fingers.

Tshion remained silent as he picked his glass up. Finally into the quiet, he spoke. “There is more pressure on us all, I think. Tempers running rampant, and not just at a common enemy, here. The Lich King and Deathwing, and many other things have not only targeted one or the other. In a way, this should be our fight, and ours alone.”

“But it's not, because of the magnitude of what Hellscream has done. It's complicated,” Briyanna nodded.

Jelah snorted. “When isn't it?”  They all chuckled, and ate quietly for a few moments. “Either way, I think we will all win, in the end. For once, our anger is not with the Alliance or a common enemy, and their anger is not with -us-, but with the Warchief. This makes him a common enemy, doesn't it?”

Tshion shrugged. Briyanna nodded. “It does, in a way. First Theramore, then well, us. And to top it off, the Vale. Not only has he gone after the Alliance, but he went after his own people, and then destroyed the sacred ground of yet another people.”

“I heard from one of the others that he actually intended to slaughter not only the humans, but the night elves, and continue to decimate every race on Azeroth until only orcs were left to rule it.”

The silence following Jelah's words was deafening. Briyanna paused with a round pastry halfway to her mouth. Tshion turned his head to look at the mage, his eyes narrowed, hand hovering over his plate. Jelah stared down at the plate in his lap.

“He intended to kill the other factions of the Horde?”

“He intended to kill neutral factions?”

“Not just the warriors either. Everyone. Like Theramore. Innocents, children, commoners, everyone.”

Briyanna's hand shook, and she opened her mouth, but put the pastry in it before she could speak her mind, clearly using the few moments she spent chewing to calm herself. “We should spread that word,” she said finally. “To everyone we see, Horde, Alliance – EVERYONE.”

“Won't that just raise tempers?” Tshion asked, shocked. “I mean, if we piss everyone off, won't that negate the calm strike we're aiming for?”

“I don't think so,” Jelah said, gesturing with a square of pastry. “I think it will solidify the resolve of what's really at stake, and also it will remind members of the Alliance that we're not their enemy in this strike. We have as much to lose as they do.”

All three of them went silent again.

Briyanna broke the silence with a string of soft curses in Thalassian. Both the mage and the paladin stared at her, wide-eyed. “That arrogant, tiny-headed dick of an orc needs to go,” she finished, then added in a softer, half-pleading voice, “I wish Thrall were back with us.”

“He's already there, from what I've heard,” Tshion pointed out. “He and Saurfang went in to try to get anyone on our side out of Orgrimmar.”

Briyanna swore again. “I hope to the Light he's still alive.”

Jelah chuckled. “He survived worse.”

“Has he though?” Tshion asked. “He went in there with little support. He wasn't present at the final confrontation of the Lich King, Tirion was. He had the support of not only all of those who fought Deathwing, but the Aspects. Sure, Hellscream's 'just an orc', but he has the backing of an Old God.”

Briyanna shook her head. “May everything we revere go with him, and with us, then.”  She shuddered. “C'thun was bad enough. Yogg-Saron was weakened. Who knows what this one can do?”

The sobering thought followed the three as they finished their meal. Briyanna stood up and took her plate and glass back to the kitchen. “I'm off to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day; Loremaster Cho expects us before dawn.”

The mage and paladin bade her goodnight, then looked at each other as they sipped thoughtfully at their drinks.

“I'm not afraid,” Tshion finally said, quietly. “I think we can do this. Every soul on Azeroth must know that far from the threat anything else has sent us, this one is a bit more close to home. Those of us going in tomorrow know what's at stake here. We will take him down.”  
  
“And what of the Horde after?”  Jelah stood up and took his and Tshion's plate back to the kitchen. Tshion smiled at him, and thought about an answer.

“If Thrall is still alive after it's over, I would assume he would take the mantle back, at least until someone else suitable presents themselves.”  The paladin frowned in thought as Jelah returned to his chair. “Though, at this point in time, I can think of at least two others who have what it takes to lead us, even temporarily.”  Jelah raised his eyebrow at him. Tshion chuckled. “After all of this, wouldn't you think the one who led the revolution is fit to lead us?  He technically has for months now.”

“Vol'jin?” Jelah blinked. “I would have thought you'd suggest Lor'themar.”

“He's the other I had in mind, but he hates leading.”  Jelah choked on his juice. “No, I'm serious!  If you ever talked to him, he's always said leading is not where his strong point is. It's always been on the front lines, letting his sword do the talking, and his strategy on the battlefield his law.”  He was quiet for a moment, then voiced something he'd kept behind his teeth for months. “At this point, considering what I've heard from the other side, I wouldn't even mind Wrynn.”

“Most would though,” Jelah pointed out. “There are too many that would never take a human.”

“I know, I know. At this point, only tomorrow knows the answers.”  Tshion stood up, and took their empty glasses back to the kitchen, then returned to offer the mage his hand. “However, there is still some of today remaining, and I'd like to confirm just what it is I'm fighting for.”

Jelah laughed. “You just want to get in some reputation with the Darkspear.”

“Maybe I just want to get in a Darkspear.”


	4. Make Me Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, they finally get into it!
> 
> Sorry for not posting in so long; my computer had some ..... issues and I thought I'd LOST this whole thing.  
> I backed it up, and lost nothing at all... So I can continue to post again - which I probably will post all of it that I have finished now that I found it - so it's archived here and I won't lose it again, computer issues or not.
> 
> <3 Thanks for your patience, everyone - and thank you for reading, kudos and commentary.

IV. Make Me Feel

Jelah blinked at the paladin, not quite sure he heard that correctly. When Tshion continued to grin at him like a cat who found a dish of cream, he chuckled. “Maybe the Darkspear would prefer to get in you.”

Tshion leaned forward and nipped the mage's ear. “Either way, both ways, it doesn't matter.”  He chuckled as Jelah stood up, tugging his arm as he did and nearly unbalancing both of them back into Jelah's chair. Tshion let go of the mage, who wind-milled a little, but stayed standing.

And then, he pouted at the paladin. Eyes wide, lips twitching suspiciously, trying to form their regular, contagious smile rather than the sullen pout. Tshion simply raised one long, black eyebrow, and shook his head, the grin returning. “Come on, Squishy,” he purred. “Or was it not your intention to feed me mageroyal tea earlier. It wasn't even diluted!”

“No, it wasn't. For good reason. You need to be relaxed tomorrow – alert, but relaxed.”  Jelah tugged at the paladin's hand, heading toward the staircase near the back of the room. He paused, however, at the kitchen door, and stuck his head into it, murmuring something softly to Lily, the retired mage, now caretaker of the hall. Upon getting an answer, he continued to tug Tshion up the stairs.

The paladin, meanwhile, simply looked amused. “Relaxed. You think I'm going to be relaxing anytime soon?”  He had glanced downward as Jelah made his inquiry. “And dare I ask what you're conspiring with your fellow mage?”

“Nothing so exciting. Just something cold, refreshing, the usual.” Jelah shrugged, trying to look innocent. Tshion didn't say anything, but he snickered softly. “Oh, laugh, Elf. You won't be laughing soon.”

That got the paladin's interest. He looked up at the troll, who was looking back at him with hooded eyes, and a grin that wasn't the cheerful sort. Tshion shuddered and bit his lip as he realized just what that look had done to him. He was very suddenly looking forward to getting his pants -off-. Why, oh why did the troll insist on taking a tower room?  And why weren't they portaling there?  Tshion suspected that Jelah knew that the mageroyal would take more effect as the paladin moved, and he'd been stationary since mid-morning when he began writing. Now that he was moving...

Why was he looking like that anyway?  It was Jelah who now had the look of that self-satisfied cat. Did he know? Could he tell?  Self-consciously, Tshion dared a glance down as they reached the top of the second flight of stairs, on the pretense of -not- tripping over that last step.

He was doomed if anyone saw him. He had chosen something comfortably form-fitting, and the very obvious ridge along the front seam that his shirt was not quite long enough to hide gave him away. He closed his eyes briefly as Jelah continued to tug at him, and from the appreciative chuckle, he could tell the mage had also noticed.

“Pants a bit tight for you?”  Oh that wicked mage... Tshion narrowed his eyes at his companion, who just chuckled again. Jelah knew what that tone did, and calling attention to … well … didn't help. “Oh come now,” the mage murmured, with an ever so slight inflection on the word “come”, “it was mageroyal. This was bound to come up.”

Tshion groaned. “Puns now, Squishy?”  He grinned, intending to get back some of his own. “Are you intending to upgrade that name to Splooshy next?”

Jelah twitched. Tshion laughed. The mage switched directions lightning quick to pull Tshion through the nearest door – the door to the lower tower balcony. He let go of the paladin and moved to the railing to look out over the sea. “Too messy. To upgrade to “Splooshy” I would probably need to hit a ceiling, and then it would just fall on us.”  He grinned back at Tshion, who moved forward to join him.

“Mm,” Tshion mused, looking out over the sea. “How would we explain -that- to Lily?”  He grinned back. “At that point, both of our names would be “Toast” and we wouldn't be going anywhere tomorrow.”  He jumped as a hand suddenly moved along the curve of his rear, then slid around to the front.

“Perhaps. Though if we're going to go out as “Toast” I do think we'd go out happy, don't you think?”  The mage's voice was quiet, though his actions spoke far louder than his words. One finger traveled along the ridge, and the troll grinned when he felt it jump.

Tshion froze, his hands curling around the rail. He turned his head to look at the mage, his eyes darkening dangerously. Jelah didn't appear to notice, though the paladin knew better. “Out here?” the paladin finally asked. “Right here, in full view?”

Jelah's hand paused. “What do you mean?”

“You would get the chance to hit the ceiling,” Tshion gestured upwards at the balcony's ornate overhang. “Lily would never know.”  He turned to face the mage. “Perhaps it's the mageroyal talking, but … I'm pretty sure it would be possible.”  One hand lifted from the railing to trail a finger along the troll's side, grinning as he felt the hand against his own arousal pause, then squeeze. “Of course, there is always the possibility of getting caught. There will be a few who may want to wander this way at moonrise.”

The hand let the paladin go. The idea was ludicrous and they both knew it, but Jelah couldn't help but let Tshion think about it. He moved closer to the paladin and nuzzled him. “I don't want to share,” he murmured, right against Tshion's ear. Tshion shuddered and pressed himself against the mage, who grinned. That was it. Right there. The paladin's eyes were dark as he looked down into them, glowing ever-so-slightly brighter than normal; the lust clearly readable there was intoxicating.

Jelah leaned down, brushing one of his tusks against Tshion's cheek, turning the paladin's head to kiss him, his arms sliding around the blood elf's waist. Tshion's arms were around him before he could blink, leaning into the kiss, his legs parting enough to wiggle one of his between the mage's, even as the thought of /Oh, Light I wasn't serious... not here.. not here.../ trickled through his mind.

The door creaked. A startled grunt came from the direction of the door and Jelah and Tshion broke apart hastily, both blushing at what they had come so close to starting. As one, they turned toward the door.

The orc standing there looked only slightly embarrassed, though it could have been due to the bruise swelling around one side of his face, up into his eye.

Tshion sighed. “Aren't you ever going to learn, Noz?”  Jelah winced as the orc stepped into the last of twilight's light.

Nozilla shrugged. “Figured she could use some peace. She isn't happy.”  He snorted. “Well, she's happier now that she's hit me.”  Tshion rolled his eyes, muttering “orcs” under his breath as he stepped away from Jelah to examine the bruise with soft fingers.

“You look like she hit you with a mallet!” Jelah burst out, shocked.

“She -did-.”

Tshion rolled his eyes. “It's not horrible. Nothing broken, at least. I can't do much – you'd need to find one of the other Healers for better, but I can at least make it so it won't swell your eye shut. You're lucky she didn't break your nose.”  He called a bit of the Light's power to him, touching the bruise gently, and the swelling began to fade, the bruise still dark, but not as raw-looking. “Markana needs to learn to control that temper of hers, sometimes.”

“More like Noz needs to learn to shut up...”  Nozilla sighed. “I deserved it.”  Tshion and Jelah both chuckled.

“I'm not even going to ask what you did.”  Jelah sighed.

“It's better that you don't. I'm... uh. Sorry that I interrupted... uh...”

Tshion blushed as he stepped back. “It's all right. You just happened to wander in before we'd left is all.”

The orc chuckled. “I figure a little bit here, and she'll have calmed down to at least let me back in. All this bad business with Hellscream's not good for her, considering the rumors we hear about what his so-called Shaman-wannabes have done.”

“For better or worse, it ends on the morrow.”  Jelah patted the Orc’s shoulder. “Good luck!”  He turned and looked at Tshion, who nodded as they both headed for the door to the tower.

“Thanks. I'll need it...” echoed through the door before Tshion closed it.

“That was close,” he said, looking up at the mage, one eyebrow lifted slightly.

“But a good thing. It was a bit too tempting. You were so willing to follow through, after all.”  Jelah grinned.

Tshion shuddered. “Evil mage.”  He started up the spiral staircase to the tower. “I'll have to find some way to make you pay for that.”

“We'll see, we'll see.”  Jelah followed the paladin, a few steps behind, just in case.

Not trusting themselves – or each other – they made their way up the rest of the stairs in silence, at least outwardly.

Tshion opened the door to their suite at the top of the tower, stepped inside and to one side, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. After a moment, Jelah chuckled behind him, and the candles in the sitting room flared to life. There were advantages, after all, to living with a mage.

Tshion took a few steps forward, sighing. “Have I mentioned how wonderful it is to have someone able to do that?”  The door closed, and Tshion counted just enough time for Jelah to lock the door.

“Oh, among other thi-” As Jelah turned he found himself pressed against the door he had just locked, lip-locked with the paladin. It took him a moment to register that Tshion had pressed himself against every inch he could, the upper part of his hip was in just the right position to renew what hardness he had lost, and from the ridge against his inner thigh, Tshion had not lost even so much as a touch of his own.

Tshion, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind the height difference. He could still display -some- dominance at least. Jelah closed his eyes, and folded his arms around the paladin, ignoring the hands pressing his shoulders against the door. /Now to even the score.../  Three fingers curled themselves around each side of the blood elf's rear and with surprising strength, lifted him.

Tshion gasped, breaking the kiss as his thigh met with the mage's cock, and his own met with Jelah's hip. He felt the mage shift slightly to lean against the door to help support his weight. “Better?” Of course Jelah would sound amused. The paladin made a noise of acknowledgment and dove in for another kiss.

Tshion wriggled a bit as the kiss broke. “Upstairs,” he murmured. “We can't keep that up long enough.”

“Oh, it'd stay up. Oh, you mean my arms.. I could arrange for-”

“Jelah...”  Tshion, had he not been dosed liberally with mageroyal, would have winced at the tone. He wasn't some horny adolescent, after all. Okay, when it came to Jelah, maybe he was, mageroyal or no. The blush that crept along his cheeks certainly didn't fit him otherwise. “Please, let me down. Upstairs. Now.” 

Jelah let him slide down to his own feet, only to find the paladin's hands tugging at the lacings of the loose pants he wore. He chuckled, and gently batted the hands away. “Upstairs,” he murmured. Tshion shook his head, and managed to loosen the pants just enough to...

/Ohspiritswhatishedoing?!/ “Tshion!” Jelah yelped in surprise. The mage leaned against the door again, this time to support himself. Daring to look down, he found the paladin on one knee, lifted just enough for his lips to be wrapped firmly around the head of his cock, his eyes mostly, but not quite closed, judging by the slight glow against his cheeks.

The mage bit his lip, his eyes closing against that tantalizing sight, hands pressing against the door so he wouldn't be tempted to run his hands through Tshion's hair, tied back as it was, or to start thrusting into that oh-so-willing mouth.

He heard the chuckle before he felt it, and his head hit the door with a loud thunk. His fingernails dug into the door, and he hoped that Lily wouldn't notice if he left gouges. His knees went weak, and the moan of longing didn't seem to make Tshion want to stop... whatever-it-was he was doing with his tongue, digging under the foreskin and lathing between it and his shaft and whatever-THAT-was at the base of the head and...

“Tshion.. I can't..”  The words spilled, a desperate attempt at a warning. At once, all touch was gone.

Tshion looked up at the mage, grinning before he stood up and helped support the troll for a moment as he opened his eyes and steadied himself. “Upstairs?”  
  
“Upstairs.”

Unlike most of the rest of the hall, the tower suites had a sitting room positioned beneath the bedrooms. The lower floor of the suite held the sitting room area, and instead of branching off from the sitting area, there was a staircase where the bedroom door would be in the usual suites. This led to a tiny ante-chamber in multi-bedroom suites, or directly to the bedroom in single-bedroom suites. This floor also held the bathing room. The suite that Jelah had chosen was at the very top of the South-east tower of the building. The bedroom floor boasted a wrapped balcony, where Jelah spent much of his time gazing out into the sea, or out over Eversong Woods. The only downside was the very small fireplace, which wasn't much comfort in the snowy weather seasons. Then again, that was what body heat was for, and they were never uncomfortable. Another advantage to being – or living with –  a mage.

Tshion wasn't sure how he made it up the stairs, though he wasn't upset when he found his own pants loosening. He moaned in relief as he tried to rid Jelah of his pants... only to find his hands batted away again, in favor of his own shirt joining his pants. “Jelah,” he murmured, only to be answered by a soft chuckle. The paladin found himself pushed down into one of the room's armchairs.  
  
Jelah leaned in to kiss him again, pushing him back against the back of the armchair, his knee between Tshion's legs, just within reach for Tshion to arch just enough to rub against the loose fabric of his pants.  
  
The chuckle came before Tshion felt the spell-casting. His eyes opened, and he pulled back a little. “Jelah, you're not-” He felt the band settle into place around his chest as similar ones settled against his wrists and ankles. “Oh, Light, Jelah, not now... for all that's holy, not now...”

“Why not?”  Jelah nuzzled Tshion's neck, then nibbled at his ear. “You know what the end result will be already.”  The paladin shuddered again.

Oh yes, he knew exactly what that end would be. The bands of ice would melt according to Tshion's need, and usually when he was more than half-mad with it. A detached part of him wondered if Jelah wanted to go into combat a little sore; a reminder of what he was fighting for.

Very well, then. So be it. As long as he was just as sore when it was over.

Tshion was jarred out of his thoughts by a three-fingered hand curling around his cock, and slowly stroking it. He couldn't stop the moan of longing, already almost painfully hard, being touched so gently, stroked so slowly. It seemed the mage was going for a slow burn, and he knew it would be worth it, but the torment it took to -get- there...

Jelah straddled the paladin, his hand still in place, his other reaching up to pull Tshion's hair-tie out, freeing the auburn locks to spill around the paladin's face. Their eyes met. The mage grinned. The paladin blinked.  
  
The blindfold settled into place with another well-chosen curse.

The hand between Tshion's thighs sped up. Touches fell on heated skin, the troll's fingertips cooled by magic. Weight shifted. Jelah lifted himself so he could nibble at one of the blood elf's ears, drawing the tip down toward him to suck on it.

Tshion's hips jerked – the only movement he could manage. His arms strained against the arms of the chair, wanting to reach up, wanting to retaliate, wanting to gain some kind of grasp to ground himself. The years with the mage had taught him that he had let slip every secret his body had to offer. Jelah knew exactly where to touch, and how, to drive him to breaking point.

And Jelah knew it was easier this way; a discovery by accident, of course. He took advantage of it now, though, no matter how hard he was himself, no matter that when he leaned forward, he left damp trails against Tshion's stomach, no matter how much he wanted the paladin – now – he would take advantage of this. It was always so much better when it was primal, raw, nothing left but desperate entwining racing toward (or fighting against) release.

The mage grinned as he pressed his palm against Tshion's shaft, turning his hand a different way along each stroke, almost giggling in glee as the paladin's hips jerked upwards, but the troll's weight kept him still. Over the years the mage had learned how to turn that disciplined paladin into a writhing, mewling ball of pure need, and sometimes it took work – when times were peaceful – and sometimes, like now, it was easier, as the reminder that they are mortal closes in.

He nudged Tshion's chin with his nose, urging the paladin to drop his head back and relax – well, sort of. Once he'd gotten what he wanted, he attacked the elf's throat with careful kisses, ignoring the delightful sounds vibrating the throat beneath his lips.

/One advantage,/ Jelah mused as he shifted to slide a knee between Tshion's legs again, pressing it against the paladin's groin so his hands were free to run along the elf's rear, /of being in this tower is definitely no one can hear us... They might think I murder Tshion every few nights.../

Tshion's hips jerked again, and he made a half-whimpering noise against the lips against his own. Jelah lifted a little so his thigh pressed the paladin's weeping cock against his stomach, and held it there firmly. And then, he remained still.

Tshion's arms strained with trying to break free of the icy shackles, but his mind reminded him that there was no escape. He told his mind to go to the Nether. His hips began to move of their own accord, writhing against Jelah's thigh, needing something, anything. Jelah let him do this for a few moments, then drew away, rolling himself backwards to stand in front of the chair, pulling the blindfold away as he moved.

Tshion's eyes snapped open, and there was definitely a fire in his eyes now that was only smoldering there when he had the mage pinned against the door. Good. The mage lowered into a crouch, watching Tshion's eyes as they followed his progress. He leaned out to kiss one of Tshion's knees, eyes upturned to the paladin's. He was the center of the elf's attention. Probably self-preservation, judging by the darkness of the purple hue the head of his cock was taking, not to mention the almost steady drip of pre-come from the tip.

He rose again, and turned his back on the elf, lazily pulling the loose shirt off, and letting it slide off one long arm to puddle onto the floor; a jewel-bright burst of amethyst against the rich red-brown of the floor panels. He waited a moment until he could feel the eyes back on him instead of the shirt, and began to slide his pants down over his slender hips, over his rear, and with a half turn towards the paladin, let them fall.

Jelah was rewarded by the slight hitching in Tshion's breath, the whimper, and the sound of a very hot paladin straining at shackles of ice. They hadn't broken yet, so there must have been some kind of control left in the paladin. That would never do.

Tshion stared at the mage as he tried to pull free. Even he knew they would break only when he himself was broken, but he certainly wanted to tackle the troll, and then there would be a pleasant scuffle, and then the winner would bury themselves into... /Oh Light I need to stop -thinking- about it.../

The thought was banished when Jelah, leaned himself against the edge of the bed and then lowered himself onto it, his eyes hot on Tshion's. He leaned back on one arm, one leg hanging off the bed, one curling to plant a two-toed foot out to the side. Tshion's hands clenched on the chair's arms, and he thought he could hear his nails tearing it. Jelah's free hand was trailing a finger down his side, along a thigh, over his knee, and back upwards along his thigh. He chuckled as Tshion's eyes followed its progress, and he deliberately teased by not moving where Tshion expected him to move.

Tshion's hips shifted restlessly, wanting friction, wanting touch, wanting -something-, even as his eyes watched one of Jelah's fingers slide over the darker blue of his shaft, then move away again. It was infuriating, and Tshion knew Jelah knew it. The mage's hand paused at his knee, and he grinned at the paladin. “Liking what you see?” he said softly, honey practically dripping from his voice.

The growl that was his answer startled a chuckle out of the mage. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned wickedly at the paladin. He leaned down so he was resting on his elbow, his head in his hand. The hand on his knee lifted and gestured.

The shackle around Tshion's right hand melted away. “Prove it.”  Without waiting to see if the paladin realized his hand was now free, he lowered his hand back to his thigh again, running a finger along the crease between it and his torso.

Before Tshion's hand had made it halfway from the arm of the chair to his own thigh, the mage's fingertips were trailing downwards through the crease, and there they paused so he could concentrate his attention on the paladin for a moment.

The paladin, meanwhile, was cooperating nicely, his hand having moved up to close around his balls and pull them outward and down. His shuddering sigh was more than enough to tell the mage just how close the paladin had been to a breaking point. After the space of a few heartbeats, Tshion moved his hand to the base of his cock, sucking in his breath as he traced a finger against it, then two, then three, until his hand curled around the shaft, and slowly began to move. Very slowly. Two could play at this game, after all.

Jelah looked up to Tshion's eyes, to find the emerald depths locked on his face, and for a moment, Jelah found it difficult to look away. His eyes dropped once more to find Tshion's hand moving faster, and from the way the tip leaked, from the way his hand flexed, he was squeezing slightly. The mage moaned quietly, his own hand moving from his thigh. His hand began to match Tshion's movements against his own shaft, and Tshion's chuckle broke him out of the trance.

The mage's hand paused, then one finger circled the head of his own weeping cock, then trailed slowly down the shaft, over his balls, and further. Tshion's eyes widened as one finger slid into the mage, and his eyes flicked upwards to Jelah's rather wicked expression. Oh yes. Two could play at this game...

Tshion's hand stroked, Jelah's finger moved, awkwardly at first, then in time with the other. The battle of wills stretched on for several long moments before Tshion's head dropped back slightly, an admission that he was definitely closer than he wanted to be. He bit his lip, while the mage tried not to look smug. Sort of.

“Stop.”  The word may have been quiet, but the tone was not negotiable. Tshion bit into his lip as he tried to stop at once, and found he couldn't. Jelah chuckled softly, then lifted a hand and gestured again. He opened a portal no larger than his hand, reached through it, and wrapped his still-damp fingers around Tshion's wrist, and gently drew it back to the arm of the chair. When the portal vanished, the band of ice was back around the paladin's wrist, leaving him squirming again.

After a moment of deliberation, Jelah opened another portal and reached through it. Tshion hissed as the mage's fingertips brushed against the tip of his cock, then yelped at the sudden -cold- sensation. /Oh, for Light's sake, he did NOT just.../  Tshion looked down, and his groan was half in despair, half in exasperation at finding the tell-tale ice crystals glittering at the tip. He looked up at the mage, who looked back innocently, as those fingertips traced random patterns over Tshion's head and shaft.

“You...” Tshion panted softly, “are going to pay for this...”

“I'm counting on it.” Tshion gasped at the heat in Jelah's tone, and he bit down on his lip again, nearly coming from that liquid-gold voice alone. The mage grinned, not missing a beat, his fingertips still tracing patterns. “You know quite well what it does to me when you drop the formality, pretense, civility and just get -on- with it and fuck me properly.”  The hand withdrew. The portal closed.

Tshion shuddered, his hands clenched against the arms of the chair, and he tugged at the bindings again. The icy plug began to melt, and the trickle of cool water down the underside of his shaft was exquisitely cold against heated flesh, and he arched against it, even as his eyes stared at the mage, whose expression was now one of heat and want, one three-fingered hand wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking with abandon now.

It was more than the paladin could endure. He arched upwards, and kicked slightly at the bands around his ankles, tugged at the ones at his wrist, squirmed in the one around his chest, and they melted away. He stood up, shakily, and stumbled to the bed, where Jelah had moved to reach out and at once steady the paladin and pull him closer. The mage was, predictably, grinning, and his hand brushed Tshion's, passing him a small jar that had come from who-knows-where.

Jelah turned to crawl upwards to the head of the bed, and Tshion discovered that the mage had somehow managed to drape a towel across where their hips would be, turned down the quilt, -and- fluffed the pillows into a suitable position. He muttered “tiny portals”, and rolled his eyes. It was -just- enough of a cool-off for him to regain enough sense to open the jar and coat his fingers in the cool substance within.

Ignoring Jelah's protesting squirm, he took the time to run a finger along the mage's shaft, and pressed gently on the space just behind his balls, making the troll squawk in protest. Tshion chuckled and forced his own body to behave as he trailed the finger lower to circle the muscles of the mage's entrance.

“Tshion,” Jelah murmured, impatiently. “You know you don't need to do that...”  Tshion didn't reply, just nudged the troll's knees further apart with his free hand and slid his finger in. The resulting hiss made him grin. He rubbed gently at the muscles with a second finger as he worked the inner one a little to each side, then added the second one. The paladin knew this was nothing but a frustration to the mage, though a pleasant one, having always done things magically instead of conventionally.  
  
“I know I don't, but there's no reason for us to use magic when we're going to need everything tomorrow.”  He looked up as he gently worked his fingers apart. “Besides, this is driving you to complete distraction, and it's helping -me- calm down a little.”  The little moan that answered him made him smile as he pressed a kiss to one buttock. “Fear not,” he whispered, just loud enough so Jelah could hear him from among the pillows, “your legs will be numb for at least half an hour when I'm done with you.”  He grinned as the troll's cock twitched. “And even then I might not yet be done with you.”  He nipped softly at the spot he had kissed. “When you can't move, I'll call myself satisfied.”

The sheets tightened as Jelah's hands curled into them at those words. He knew Tshion could – and would – deliver that promise. Surviving until then was the trick. He was already so hard that he could feel the weight of it and he could feel the nearly steady drip. His balls ached, though he attributed that to watching the paladin write, then watching (and/or feeling) the paladin nearly lose control of himself no less than four times since leaving the common room. If he had to, he would admit that he was close to turning back over and pinning the elf to the bed himself, but he knew that while he had an important role in tomorrow's attack, Tshion was up against much worse.  
  
It was the paladins' job to keep the bloodlust-crazed orcs from tearing everyone else on their team apart.

He had to be relaxed, he had to let go of anything that would stop him from sleeping tonight – and all that pent up tension was going to feel so good when Tshion finally let go of control and...

Tshion's fingers brushed against -that spot-. Jelah's head dropped into the pillows and he moaned, the sound loaded with more than lust – longing, want, need, restraint, and...

“Tshion -please-! Stop teasing me, or I swear to the Loa I'm going to pin you down and it'll be you who can't walk!”  Jelah's voice was slightly muffled by a pillow, but Tshion knew that tone all too well, even if some of the words were muffled a bit.

The fingers withdrew. Tshion dipped his fingers into the jar again and as he coated his own cock, hissing at having gotten just that much more sensitive, he chuckled. “Or you'll just explode.”  He settled on his knees and carefully lined himself up, nudging the troll's entrance slightly. “Which is what I want,” he slid in, slowly. “But not yet; I want to feel it when you do.”

The moan that answered him was completely unrestrained. Tshion's fingers curled around the slight hips and he slid forward again, taking advantage of the troll's distraction to bury himself completely. Both of them hissed at this, and Tshion's arms wrapped around the troll's chest, his own lowering to rest on the warm, blue skin. Jelah wriggled. Tshion hissed at him. Jelah laughed.

And did it again. Tshion leaned to the side and sank his teeth into the flesh on the side of the troll's ribcage. Jelah arched, his hands clawing the sheets again. “Damn it, Tshion!”

Ignoring the outburst, Tshion ran his tongue along the marks, and slowly began to roll his hips, cautiously testing whether Jelah was ready. If the way the mage countered the move to make the roll harder than the paladin intended, then yes, yes he was.

Leaning back just enough to regain leverage, Tshion gave Jelah what he'd been asking for the past hour – or more. He didn't know. He didn't care. He began thrusting steadily, and he could hear the hissing “yesss” of the mage beneath him as he sped up. The paladin trailed his hands down and around the troll's belly, one arm lifting enough to hook around his chest, the other teasing his abdomen, deliberately not touching him, his forehead dropped to rest just beside one shoulder blade.

Time had taken its toll. Every movement was torture now, and it couldn't be fast enough, hard enough. Tshion pulled one knee up and out to one side, taking Jelah's leg with it, trying to find some way to gain more leverage. From the sound the mage made when he drove just a little deeper, consistently hitting the troll's sweet spot, he'd found it.  
  
Jelah's head lifted from the pillows. His back arched. His hands balled in the bedding. Tshion felt the clenching, the twitching. His arms tightened around the troll, and he hissed, words he himself could only half understand, his mind half gone.

Tshion vaguely realized his mind was gone when he could only vaguely hear Jelah's desperate begging cries to touch him, finish him, do -something-, but he was determined not to; not after the torment he was subjected to earlier, not on a dose of mageroyal. The cries did nothing to help his own situation.

Hold on? Let go? What was it he wanted?  The paladin hardly knew his own name as his body made decisions for him. His arms tightened. His hands clenched. His toes curled. His head lifted and words tumbled from his lips, warning, begging, negating...

Screaming.

The world went white.


	5. Make Me See

V. Make Me See

There was heat below him, Tshion could feel that it was breathing. He could feel something clamped, tightly but not uncomfortably or unpleasantly around his cock. He felt like he was floating, but there was heat below him, breathing.  
  
His arms ached.

“Jelah..?”

“Nn...”

Tshion leaned back, letting Jelah's leg down as he used the movement to carefully withdraw from the mage. The soft moan of loss made Tshion wince.

The paladin rolled to one side, planting his feet firmly on the floor, and regretted it once he stood up and felt dizzy. He turned to look at the troll, legs tucked under, arms supporting his forehead, fingers clenching and unclenching the pillows. He frowned when he realized the slender hips were moving, ever-so-slightly.

“Jelah?” Tshion tried again.

“Go,” Jelah whispered, “clean up a bit. Don't be long. Can't stand it.”

Tshion's heart sank; he thought he knew why. “I...”

“Wanted it this way. Go.”  The mage turned his head. “Before I break.”

Tshion quickly headed for the bathroom. /I didn't expect him to take that to heart.../ Several moments later, he pondered his reflection in the mirror as he washed up, and smiled. He dried his hands, turned and put one leg up on the edge of the bathtub, sliding a finger along the cleft of his rear. /If nothing else, he won't have to deal with this, or wait on me once I'm out there./  He bent the leg he stood on, and slid one finger in just enough to tug at the ring of muscle, stretching it as quickly, and as gently as he could with such short time.

Biting his lip to keep any sound from escaping, he slid in a second, twisting and scissoring as his own flexibility allowed. Silently thanking the Light that he was much more relaxed now than he was when they got upstairs, he slid a third finger in with a touch of difficulty; difficulty that would evaporate when confronted with the contents of whatever Jelah had in that jar. It was good enough.

Trying not to blush when he realized he was hardening again, he left the bathroom to find Jelah in the same position, but with his hips lifted so he could find no friction against the towel on the bed. Tshion shivered and felt himself fill out the rest of the way at the sight.

Jelah's hips were moving, slowly. His eyes were closed, his face tight with either pain or concentration. His lips were moving, but no sound emerged. He seemed oblivious that his lover was staring transfixed at him.

Tshion decided that was a good thing. He tiptoed to the bed, and carefully sat down on it. Jelah's eyes snapped open, and glowed faintly. Slightly alarmed, the paladin recoiled. The mage's eyes were wild, a look that was both feral and hungry in them, with a touch of something like a cornered wild animal.

“Jelah... what...”  He didn't expect the mage to move so fast, so when he landed on his back on the floor, he was momentarily dazed. The thick clefthoof rug saved him from the floorboards, but it was still enough to jar him a bit.  
  
The troll had him pinned, but wasn't moving, his eyes searching Tshion's face, his face still, the paladin was certain, tight with pain. For a long moment they lay there before Tshion dared to speak, and even then only in a whisper. “The salve, Jelah.”  The eyes flashed, and though the troll didn't move, he lifted one hand, the jar in it.  
  
Jelah moved with deliberate, careful slowness, as though afraid to do so at all. Tshion watched and waited, barely daring to breathe. In all the years they'd been together through whatever dangers Azeroth and beyond could throw at them, he'd never seen the mage like this. Those eyes, depthless amethyst eyes that bore the hint of fire, had never glowed like this, and the paladin could feel the heat of them as they raked over him as the mage delved his fingertips into the jar.

They still had the undertone of resignation they had earlier. Damn it to all the hells, what did the mage know?

Fingertips touched him, probed at him with shocking gentleness, and the surprised “hn” punctuated the eyes reaching his face again. “Prepared,” the mage said softly. Tshion blushed slightly and nodded. The butterfly kiss to his forehead confused him.

“Jelah...” Tshion watched as the fingertips dipped again into the jar, and then brushed against the troll's darkened shaft. The hiss made the paladin wince. /Too long... he's so far gone.../

The other hand released his wrist as the mage leaned back, and moved to hook one of Tshion's legs in the crook of the elbow, lifting it without effort. The soft half-sob nearly made the elf tense as he felt the head of the troll's slick cock press, then slide in. Without waiting, Tshion pushed back. The sob turned growl as Jelah hilted himself at once.

The mage rolled his hips once, then leaned over the paladin, both hands pressed into the fur beneath them. Tshion shifted his leg up to the troll's shoulder.

For the first time since Tshion had begun sleeping with the troll, there was no grace. Even when Jelah had been deep in the throes of desperate need, he had always been graceful in his movements. Not so, now; it was little more than age-old, primal rutting – completely without control.

Tshion reached up, pulling Jelah against him, one hand digging nails into the troll's back, the other just curling around the slender body. Half-words were already spilling from the mage's lips, some of them in Orcish, some in Darkspear, some in Thalassian, a few in Common, and a few even in Darnassian. Tshion recognized the languages, but could not decipher more than a few words. The tone said more than enough.

Tshion bit his lip, and decided quickly. He bent his head and began to murmur back. “Don't stop,” he whispered. “You won't break me.”  The troll's arms slid under Tshion's back, pulling him closer. “Yes,” Tshion hissed. “I told you I wanted to feel it. -Make- me feel it. I want to know when it's coming. I want to know I've pushed you beyond your limits. I want you to fill me completely before you explode, and I won't let you go until you are empty.”  
  
Whether it was Tshion's voice, his tone, or the words, it was clear to Tshion that his decision before leaving the bathroom was the right one. Mindful even now of the deadly tusks, Jelah's teeth bit down into Tshion's shoulder, muffling the cries of frantic desperation. Despite his fear, the pace that the mage set was getting to him, his own cock trapped between them, and the friction there, as well as the feeling of fullness was getting to him.  
  
He strained to hold on, to hold on long enough to feel Jelah's completion. “You're so close, you can't bear it,” he whispered against Jelah's ear. “I can feel you twitching, muscles aching, tightening.”  Jelah's answer was muffled and unintelligible against the paladin's shoulder. “Yes,” Tshion hissed, his own lust starting to cloud his mind again, “there. Right there. Anar'alah, Jelah, don't hold it back!  Damn it, let -go-!”

Tshion realized his voice was rising in pitch, his encouraging hisses turning into pleading cries. White noise started to hiss against his ears, his blood singing, his body screaming for release. The mage, damn him, was slowing down, fighting for control again. Tshion turned his head and bit the mage's ear.

And the world exploded.

Jelah's body arched, driving himself into Tshion, and the paladin gasped at the sudden, all-encompassing -heat- as the mage spent himself, hissing the elf's name over and over again. It was more than the paladin could take. Whimpering Jelah's name, he surrendered to the white noise once more.

 

It was here. Whatever It was, It was here. This was where he needed to be, but where was here?  It looked like Grommash Hold, but it was too large, too open, too hot. Voices. There were voices. Frantic voices. His arms hurt. Why did his arms hurt? Combat. He was in combat. Something heavy hit his shield. He swung, and was parried. It was here. He had to be here. He had to do something. He had to stop something. He had to...

 

“Tshion?” Liquid-gold.

The paladin opened his eyes, meeting quiet pools of amethyst. “Jelah...”  He tried to sit up, but found that there was a troll on him. “Are you-”

“Fine,” Jelah leaned down and kissed the paladin's forehead.

/Butterfly kisses.../  Tshion shivered slightly. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Ve~ery.”  The word was more purr than anything else.

Tshion shifted and realized that the mage was draped over him. He also realized he was clean. “How long...?”

“Worried.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pass out on you.”

“Worth it,” Jelah purred again. “O~oh worth it.” Tshion blushed. “Relaxed?”

The paladin moaned softly. “Yes. Oh, Light yes.”

“Again?”

“After that? Can you?”

“No.” Jelah sounded like he was pouting. “Sleep.”

“We're on the floor...”

“Warm... with you.”

“We need to not wake with kinks, Squishy.”  Jelah harrumphed, but flowed to his feet, and offered his hand down to the paladin. With a pang of nostalgia, Tshion reached up and took it. He was prepared this time for the strength in that grasp, and in the tug that aided him to his feet, but he still took the extra step forward and pulled the mage into his arms.

The returned embrace was much more fierce than Tshion liked. “Jelah, what is it that's bothering you?” he asked against the mage's chest.

“Nothing... to worry... you.”  Tshion sighed, and turned his head to press his lips lightly against Jelah's heart. The mage's arms tightened.

They separated reluctantly, and Jelah vanished into the bathroom. Tshion turned toward the bed, and chuckled. The towel was gone and the pillows were back to normal.  He must have been out for at least several minutes. When Jelah emerged, he brushed his fingertips across Tshion's face on his way to climbing into bed.

Tshion headed into the bathroom, wincing slightly as he lifted his arm to close the door. He turned to look into the mirror, and saw that his shoulder was bandaged lightly. He shook his head, smiling slightly. The bite was worth it.

When he returned to the bedroom, only a small lamp was burning, just enough light for him to find his way to the bed. He settled, and the light winked out. At once he was enveloped in warmth.

If nothing else, he could always count on the mage to want afterglow cuddles. Or sleepy cuddles. Or anytime cuddles. He folded his arms around the troll and for a moment they shifted until both were comfortable.

Tshion tilted his head and kissed the troll's forehead, savoring the sleepy mage's presence. Yes, this, this was worth fighting for.

 

 

Morning came with indecent speed. Tshion opened his eyes as the first light of pre-dawn touched the horizon, the grey light filtering in through the eastern-facing doors to the balcony. He turned his head to look at Jelah, but the troll was … gone.

/He never gets up before sunrise unless I drag him out of bed.../

Tshion got up and checked the bathroom. The door was open, and the room was empty. He turned to look out the balcony doors, and realized one was open. He pulled on a robe and stepped outside, shivering in the cold that precedes sunrise. Padding barefoot around the circular balcony, he found the troll facing south, naked, face upturned, eyes closed.

Tshion tilted his head. He didn't like this at all. Then again, today's events were going to change an awful lot of things, very quickly, and the blood spent would devastating.

Troll or not, Jelah was not fond of blood spilled for stupid reasons.

Not that taking down Garrosh Hellscream was stupid, but the fanatics and the Kor'kron would gladly sacrifice themselves to the cause, no matter what.

Without trying to be quiet, he moved closer to the mage, reaching out to lay his hand on Jelah's arm. The troll started, his head snapping around to look at the paladin. Tshion opened his mouth, but found himself crushed against the troll's chest.

“Don't... want... this,” he said against Tshion's hair.

“I know. There's too much at stake to not act, though.”  The paladin cleared his throat, and tried to bring back that cheerful smile that he was so used to. “We've been through worse, Squishy. You can't tell me that Deathwing's got less than an orc.”

“Old God.”

“Pfft. C'thun fell over easily enough. Yogg-Saron was all talk and bluff. We managed those without the personal involvement of half the world, remember. Going into this, we have the support of not only Baine, Sylvanas, Lor'themar -and- Vol'jin, but all of the Alliance, Thrall, and others like us, striking in different areas.”  Tshion ran his hands over the mage's back and frowned at the cold he felt. He was liking this change in Jelah less and less.

“Getting late. Go soon.”  Despite the words, Jelah didn't release the paladin, but pulled him tighter.

“We'll be all right, Jelah. We'll be all right.” Tshion nuzzled Jelah's chest, and the mage finally let him go. “Come on. I want to check over my glyphs before we go; I think a few of them may be fading.”

Reaching down and pulling the mage's hand into his own, Tshion led Jelah back inside, where both of them pulled armor off racks, checked over their travel gear, double- and triple-checked their weaponry, and at last, headed downstairs to meet the others.


	6. It Ends Here Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mages should not pull aggro. They tend to get hurt. Or hurt others.  
> Have some angst.

VI. It Ends Here Tonight  
  
  
The stench of Mantid blood was thick in the hallway, right through the sanctum they had claimed. No one had much of a mind to speak, other than the soothing words of healing spells. Tshion slumped against the wall by the doorway leading into yet another passage, his injuries insubstantial enough that he could wait to be seen.  
  
A thump next to him told him he wasn't alone. The clunk of a shield dropping to the floor told him who it was.  
  
“I don't think I've ever had this much fun,” the other's voice said, sounding flat. “When was the last time you had this much fun, Tshion?”  
  
“I don't know,” Tshion replied tiredly. “I would have to say either when Ragnaros set my hair on fire, or the time I was clinging by my fingernails to Deathwing's back.”  
  
Tshion turned his head to look at the other paladin, a platinum blonde by the name of Selarcis, and pulled his helmet off so he could dry his hair and neck. He noted Selarcis was doing the same.   
  
Tshion pulled out a towel from his traveling bag and rubbed along his face and neck, noting that there weren't many dry, or clean, spots left on it. Two-thirds of it was covered in blood, none of it his own. Even he became a combat-medic after a battle was won.  
  
“How much more do you think stands between us and that traitorous bastard who calls himself 'Warchief'?” Selarcis asked, offering Tshion a fresh towel, after wincing at the one his comrade was using.  
  
With a grateful look and a nod, Tshion accepted the clean towel, and ran it over his face. “I don't know. I don't care. I just want it to be over.”  He looked up to where the wounded were being tended. Jelah was having a particularly nasty gash in his arm tended where a kunchong had surprised him. “The Healers have to rest for a little, first, before we move on. The others are exhausted, and... though it seems mundane, even stupid, we have been doing this for hours without eating or drinking much. It seems like years ago that we met the Loremaster underneath the palace...”  
  
“I know. Can we afford the time?  Saurfang said Thrall went ahead. We still haven't seen him.”  
  
“Can we afford to -not- take the time?  Exhausted, the Healers are of no use to us, the hunters can't raise bows, spell-casters can't cast, or may have trouble focusing, the melee will be trampled. Look at the two of us. How are we going to hold ourselves together if we can't even lift our shields with any speed because of exhaustion?  We don't know how much farther we need to go, or what other horrors this place holds.”  
  
Selarcis bit his lip, looking around at the rest of their team. The ones who were not wounded were laying down, or leaning against friends or partners or walls. A few were taking the time to drink or snack. The Healers, looking grey, were still attending the wounded. “We can't. You're right, we have to stop for a while.”   
  
Using the wall, Selarcis struggled to his feet, and pitched his voice to be heard through the room. “Everyone, listen up!”  A few groans punctuated those lying down returning to a sitting position as eyes turned to the two paladins. “As much as I'm loathe to do it, we have to stop here for a little while. If we don't, we risk exhaustion taking us down.”  He sighed. “We make a cold camp here for at least a couple of hours, or we can return to somewhere less,” he looked around at the corpses of the Mantid, “less gross.”  
  
“I say we go back to the main chamber, past the chest room, where the last line is.”  
  
“That would make us look weak.”  
  
“No, it would make us look smart.”  
  
“Smart, weak, w'at be de diff'rence?  We need ta rest or we be dead before we put up a fight.”  
  
The last comment brought murmuring, during which Tshion took the opportunity to pick himself up, and hurriedly whispered to Selarcis. “I say we go back. We can have our gear repaired, replace what is destroyed, get a proper camp set, and Baine's there – we won't have to set watches to become more vulnerable.”  Selarcis nodded.  
  
“We go back to where Baine holds the line. They've brought down some amenities that we should make use of, such as Rivett Clutchpop and his expertise.”  This brought some chuckles. “Once the wounded are able to move, we go. For now, anyone who can cook, we'll need your assistance once we are there, so think up something we can create to get us all fed and watered. Healers, once you have eaten, you will sleep; we need you too much to risk you. Everyone else, what you do is up to you, but I suggest you take the Healers' orders for yourselves.”  He paused. “Aminko, let us know when everyone is in condition to travel.”  
  
“Will do,” the druid replied, the tauren not even looking up from his patient.  
  
The two paladins slid back down to the floor. “That's done then,” Tshion mumbled. “I hate being in charge.”  
  
“Someone has to. Why not us?”  
  
“No reason,” Tshion replied, “it's just not something I like doing. I feel personally responsible for each and every person in this room. Right now I feel we've run them ragged. How many have we killed today?  How much rest have we had?”  
  
“Other than the rest we took at the end of each wing of this wretched place, not much, and even that was just so we could tend the wounded and … revive the fallen.”  
  
Tshion coughed. “I'm sorry about what happened when we fought Nazgrim. I.. I didn't see-”  
  
“Stop. We were tired at that point, and if it hadn't been that we could go back up and have others tend us, both of us would have...”  Selarcis swallowed. “That was a close call, nothing more. We are trying to prevent that this time, by taking a-”  
  
“Everyone's ready, Sel.”  A tauren stood above them, but it was not Aminko.  
  
“Then let's get going. Thank you, Starshado.”  The tauren bowed slightly and grinned at him, making Selarcis roll his eyes. “Stop that. Let's go.”  
  
Tshion hauled himself to his feet again, picking up his helm and shield. He picked his way over to Jelah, and offered the mage, who was slumped over, still looking dizzy, his hand. “Squishy,” he said softly. The mage looked up, and took the offered hand. Together, they pulled him to his feet.  
  
“Tired,” Jelah whispered. “Empty.”  
  
“I know,” Tshion told him, one arm sliding around him for support. “We're going to go fix that. Come on...”  
  
All over the room, those who had strength to spare supporting those who didn't, the rest of the team pulled themselves up and headed back to Baine's line, looking forward to food and rest.  
  
  
Tshion woke with a start, his hand reaching and grabbing at air at his side, still in full combat-ready mode. There were noises he didn't recognize, and he sat up, dislodging the mage curled against him, covered lightly with their cloaks.  
  
The noise that woke him was the clatter of a sword hitting the ground. One of the goblins had dropped the blade while sharpening it. Tshion looked around. Several others had been startled out of sleep, and he saw that they had been joined by one of the other teams. Draping his cloak over Jelah, he stood up and as quietly as he could, made his way to the leader of that group.  
  
“...not to mention the pet … ha. Pet. That thing nearly snapped my head off. If I hadn't ducked... Eh, neither here nor there. How did you fare, Selarcis?”  
  
“Sounds like you and Trekka had your hands full. Tshion and I … well.” Selarcis waved his hands around the room. “We're exhausted. Seeing you and your team was … a blessed sight.”  He sighed. “Have you heard from Mmooga or Eternal?”  
  
“No, nor from Erinni or Nozilla.”  Mushao frowned, the pandaren appearing to fret for a moment. “I hope they're all right.  
  
“I'm sure they are,” Tshion put in, softly. “Their teams were solid – and if you think about it, I'm sure Noz would have insisted on remaining on the beach to aid Lor'themar.”  
  
“Mmooga may have stayed behind to aid the Sentinels,” Mushao mused. “Either way. Since we're all here, there's no reason to go on by yourselves. We'll go with you, and if there's another split, we'll deal with it then. I have my healing paraphernalia with me, and Trekka brought his.”  
  
Selarcis sagged with relief. “Thank the Light. It may be prudent to allow some of the other Healers to rest, or at least have fewer people to deal with on their own. Who's heading your Healers?”  
  
“Briyanna.”  
  
Tshion's eyes went wide. “I thought she went with Noz and Erinni!”  
  
“No, we sent Moejoe with them since we had Beireth.”  
  
Selarcis grinned. “That just means that we'll have one slight advantage – if she can't pull us out of anything with the team we have here, then no one can. Could you have her talk to Starshado and get the Healers organized?  Since you and Trekka are going to go on as Healers, I think a few of them can either drop out here, if they need to, or they can switch to combat 'casters.”  
  
“Done and done.”  Mushao bounced to his feet and moved off to speak to the other Healers.  
  
“That's that done then. With that, our Healer team has just doubled.”  
  
“Yes,” Tshion said, quietly, “but so has the overall number of us.”  
  
“We'll be all right. If Bri and Star can't organize who we have with us, no one can, and now that we have Skelington, he, Varoka and Rynzia can handle the ranged groups. I'll have a talk with Helyon and Vixxinn to get the melee fighters organized. We're going to have to keep a sharp eye on communication now that there's so many of us.”  Selarcis hauled himself to his feet and went to find those he mentioned.  
  
Tshion sighed and moved back over to Jelah, sitting down beside the mage and reaching out to touch him. Jelah murmured in his sleep and turned to wrap an arm around Tshion's leg. The slice down the sleeve of his under-robe and the slowly fading scar beneath was much more visible at this angle, and Tshion leaned to inspect it. If it had been deep, the scar wouldn't be fading this quickly, even with Jelah's natural regeneration. It was only a glancing slash, but the blood around the edges of the torn robe was enough to tell Tshion that it hurt, and was a distraction. He only hoped that the armor, once mended, would be enough to keep him a bit safer.  
  
The niggling feeling that he needed to do something was returning, though he'd watched for it, or rather felt for it, while in combat, he had not felt it until now. He wished he could sort out the fuzzy images the dreams had sent over the years, but every time he tried, they vanished like smoke in a stirring of wind.  
  
The paladin ran his fingers along the mage's face, which was not as calm as he would have liked, but in the circumstances, everyone was on edge. He wondered how Jelah could sleep through the noise. He smiled slightly, shaking his head. Jelah could sleep through another Cataclysm, wake up, and ask why it was so early.  
  
“Tshion.”  He looked up to find a bowl and mug in front of him. “Don't think I didn't notice that you didn't eat before you passed out.”  The tauren stared at him, pointedly. Considering how large he was, Tshion didn't dare argue.  
  
The paladin took both bowl and mug from the druid's hands. “I did have-”  
  
“A few fish sticks is not enough to keep your stamina up, Paladin.”  
  
Quailing under the tauren's glare, Tshion set the mug down, and poked the sticks the tauren handed him into the bowl, prodding a stuffed lushroom. “Thank you, Kel,” he said quietly.   
  
Kelanar softened. “You're worried. We all are. Don't fret so much; we'll all get out of this. You'll see.”  
  
Tshion grinned. “Well, you will if there's no fire to stand in.”  
  
“Hey! That was uncalled for.”  Despite the words, the druid was grinning. “Bloody meat shield.”  
  
“Walking buffet,” Tshion countered.  
  
“Flouncing fop.”  
  
Tshion couldn't help it. He laughed despite his worry, despite their location, and despite everything he'd been through. Kel patted the paladin and wandered off, presumably hunting down others who had not eaten properly.  
  
Tshion shook his head and applied himself to the food. Once he had set his bowl aside, he picked up the mug, which was still steaming. He blew over the top and sipped at it. Ginger, he decided. Ginger with a hint of sweet... peaches?  Something behind it... Of course. A healing-elixir. Clever Healers make for fussy cooks.  
  
A few moments later, the same tea had been distributed to the waking members of the team, while others were being awakened. Reluctantly, Tshion nudged Jelah's shoulder. “Squishy. Jelah, wake up.”  
  
“No.”  Jelah cracked an eye open and glared at the paladin, then closed it again.  
  
At least some things never changed.  
  
“Come on, the others are waking, and the Healers are using us for experiments again.”  Jelah muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “screw the Healers”, but Tshion wasn't sure. “Come on, or would you rather stay here and miss getting a piece of Hellscream for yourself?”  
  
That did it. Jelah's eyes opened, and the fires burned in their amethyst glow once more. “Much better.”  He handed Jelah the mug that one of the Healers left for him. “We're going to be killed by the Healers if we don't drink this... whatever-it-is. I think it's a healing-elixir mixed with tea, mixed with some kind of drug to make us think we're invincible... or something to make us stupid enough to go on.”  
  
Jelah snorted, then took a drink. “Elixir. Tea.”  He looked at Tshion. “Liar.”  The insult didn't matter; Jelah was grinning at him, the sleep and food doing him a world of good. “Robes?”  
  
“I haven't heard anything yet. Most of the repair work is done though.”  
  
“Time?”  
  
“We spent about two hours here, and we've been joined by Mushao and Trekka's team.”  Jelah brightened at this news. “They're going to join the Healers, and Ryn is going to pick up communications for the mages.”  This brought a sigh of relief.  
  
Once their mugs were empty, they brought them and Tshion's bowl back to those organizing the cooking, who were now busily packing, cleaning and seeing that stragglers and all of Baine's troops had eaten.  
  
Selarcis' voice boomed from the doorway moments later. “All right, people – most of you should be ready to head out. I know some of you are waiting on a few details to your armor or weapons. Start limbering up and take care of -anything- else that needs taking care of; once those gear details are completed, we move out.”  
  
“Once more into the breach,” Tshion mumbled, rolling his neck and shoulders.  
  
  
The sounds of shouting nearby made everyone freeze at the end of the passage. There was light up ahead, and the steady, eerie sound of a heart beating.  
  
They had found the heart of the maze.  
  
“... down the mantle of Warchief. We can end this here, now, with no more bloodshed.”  
  
Thrall.  
  
Ignoring the verbal battle going on in the room, Selarcis and Tshion waved hand-signals to the rogues to move forward, to scout the room.  
  
“You are an Orc no longer, and speak for none but yourself. You betrayed our people...”  Tshion snarled at Hellscream's voice. /Who betrayed who, you selfish, hateful bastard?/  
  
“It's just Thrall and Hellscream,” Vixxinn reported. “No one else is here.”  
  
“Damn, that means we'll be the front.”  Tshion sighed.  
  
“Should we wait for the others?” Selarcis whispered. “I mean they must be on their way... Vol'jin said he was going on, so he must have found another way in.”  
  
“...face off against a real Orc Warchief. So be it.”  
  
Tshion raised the hand-signal for silence. The clash of weaponry sounded from the next room. Vixxinn moved back into the room, only to emerge a few seconds later.  
  
“We need to go in, Thrall can't call the elements after what those worthless Dark Shamans did!”  
  
Selarcis frantically signaled the rest of the team's leads, and they poured into the room and down the ramps leading down into the hold.  
  
Both paladins held up their hands, signaling for the groups to stop. It looked like Thrall had the upper hand, and none of them were stupid enough to step into a duel between two orcs.  
  
Hellscream picked up his leg and kicked, sending Thrall across the room and to his knees.  
  
No one needed the signals. Several shouts of negation and anger sounded. Selarcis ran forward, intercepting Hellscream as he moved to finish the shaman off by flinging a Light-made shield at his chest.  
  
Tshion took a deep breath and followed. Together, they backed the orc away from the former Warchief, and the rest of the group spread out into the room, setting themselves up as best as they could. There was no time to talk about tactics. There was no time to talk about anything. There was only time to react.  
  
  
Tshion could feel the sweat trickling down his neck and tried to ignore it. That feeling was back, and it haunted him. He knew now that it was here that he needed to be and It was here – whatever it was that he need to do, whatever it was he needed to stop. Hellscream's resolve was stronger than any of them had imagined, and coupled with the power of an Old God...  
  
The battle had taken more of a toll than anyone expected. Several had already collapsed from exhaustion, and backed away to recover. Selarcis and Tshion did not have that option, and they both knew it.  
  
Every time they thought they had him, Hellscream recovered, and took on more of the Old God's power. Y'shaarj's voice haunted them as they fought through visions made reality. If they had to keep this up much longer... if reinforcements didn't arrive...  
  
“Tshion!”  
  
Tshion whirled, bringing his shield up and blocking Hellscream's axe from hitting Selarcis, forcing the orc to face him instead. “What's the matter, dumbass? Forget who you were fighting?  Did the pathetic, puny little pansy elf lift up a shield and make you miss?”  Hellscream roared and swung at Tshion instead.  
  
The shield dented under the blow, and Tshion winced, thanking the Light that he'd had the straps repaired before they came through this way. He had a feeling his arm would fracture if he had to take much more than this.  
  
“We have to finish this. The Healers are flagging!” Selarcis shouted.  
  
Tshion winced. If the Healers were losing their strength... His eyes darted to the side and he barely managed to duck another swing, and another. Hellscream was bleeding, and it seemed he had become the cornered, desperate animal, fighting with nothing to lose.  
  
Tshion ducked again, then caught the butt of the axe in the arm. He rolled, and scanned the wall where those who could no longer fight had retreated to.   
  
On his other side he barely caught the flash of color.  
  
Color?  
  
“Jelah! What the hell do you think you're-” Ryn stopped abruptly.  
  
The pyroblast screamed past Tshion, who put his foot out to try to trip the orc, but it was too late. He was swinging his free arm around, eyes on the mage who dared send the blast of fire into his face.  
  
Time slowed to a crawl as Jelah, instead of running, sent out a last spell. Hellscream's body slowed. Everyone else moved normally, tearing into the orc in a last desperate attempt to stop him, to take him down.  
  
Time Warp.  
  
Tshion screamed another insult, hacking desperately at the Warchief's arm, but nothing seemed to stop its movement. No blade or claw could pierce it. No spell affected it. The sha-infested, Y'shaarj-enhanced arm continued to move.  
  
The spell's effects faded.  
  
The hand collided with the mage, and Tshion's heart stopped. So did the rest of him. His eyes followed the progress of the multi-colored blur until it hit the wall several feet off the ground with a sickening crack. Tshion's eyes widened as the body fell to the floor with another sickening crunch.  
  
“Jelah..” he whispered. Hellscream's axe crushed part of his shoulder guard.  
  
Selarcis turned and saw Tshion transfixed, staring at the wall, and quickly intervened, blocking the next swing, aimed at the paladin's head.  
  
“Tshion! Snap out of it! We have to finish this!”  Selarcis shouted, right next to him. “Damn it, Tshion, wake -up-! If you don't wake up, damn you, -we're all dead-, do you hear me?!”  Tshion shook his head at last.  
  
Turning back to the Warchief, he realized with a gut-wrenching jolt of guilt that Selarcis was weapon-locked with the orc. Before he could thrust his own weapon into the fray, Selarcis managed to kick himself free, and found the back of the axe bashed into his face. Tshion snarled another insult as Selarcis dropped to his knees, his blade hitting the floor as he grasped at his throat, his helm bent and crushing his throat.  
  
Tshion saw red. Abandoning his training, he threw himself at the orc, slashing with complete abandon, using the flat of his blade, the pommel of his blade, his feet, his elbows, anything he could use. It didn't matter anymore. The feeling of needing to stop something was gone, and in its place was a screaming, wailing place of Failure.   
  
He drove Hellscream back, toward the center of the room, and he realized that those that were left standing were winning. Ignoring his own pain, he flung everything he had at the orc, blade, shield, Light-guided, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered other than seeing this atrocity fall, once and for all.  
  
Hellscream staggered backwards. Tshion pulled his blade back, aiming for the Orc’s heart, but the Warchief stumbled, and fell forward. Tshion dropped his blade, tucked it into his chest and rolled out of the way.  
  
“No... It cannot end... like this.. What I... What I have seen...”  The orc fell on his face, and stopped moving.  
  
Everyone left standing stopped moving. Spells died on the 'casters' lips. The melee group cautiously lowered their weapons. Tshion stood up, moved forward, and nudged Hellscream with his foot. He didn't move.  
  
Pain rippled through him and he felt dizzy, but refused to sit down as his body longed to. He ached in places he hadn't ached in since his training days. He looked up as he heard movement, and realized that the rest of the reinforcements had arrived, from both the Horde and the Alliance. Thrall was getting to his feet, circling the fallen Mag'har.  
  
Tshion backed away, and fell to the ground next to Selarcis (now lacking his helm) as they both watched Thrall raise Doomhammer, speaking words that sounded muffled in Tshion's ears.  
  
There was something happening, Tshion was sure it was important, too. An argument, and something about not killing Hellscream. He looked up, and realized that someone was standing over him, and he felt warmth, then heat, and then things started to clear up again. The healing touch of the Light flowed through him and his eyes cleared. He looked up, frowning at one of the Healers. Female. Paladin. Raega?  
  
“You two really know how to show the Blood Knights how it’s done, don't you?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You missed it. You missed it all.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Raega! He's not going to understand that right now. You just pulled him out of a grey-out!”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
A hand extended to him, and he took it. Selarcis hauled him to his feet and sighed. “You saved my life.”  
  
“I damn near killed you,” Tshion argued. “If I had been out of it any longer.”  
  
“You had good reason. I'm fine; no lasting damage. I promise you that.”  
  
Good reason.  
  
Tshion pulled his helm off and shook sweat out of his hair. “Where is he?”  
  
Selarcis bit his lip. “The Healers-”  
  
“Where. Is. He?”  Selarcis pointed, lowering his eyes.  
  
The helm hit the floor, followed by his sword. Tshion turned from the other two and trying to get the straps of his shield undone as he moved, half-ran toward the wall where he'd last seen Jelah.  
  
He should have been able to tell from the knot of Healers, including both Briyanna and Aminko, and heading toward him, Starshado.  
  
Briyanna looked up from her position, since it's hard to disguise the noise of someone in full plate running across a metal floor. Upon seeing who it was running toward them, she nudged Aminko, and they backed away enough to let Tshion see their patient.  
  
Tshion stopped in his tracks, his heart in his throat, mercifully stopping the cry of negation there.  
  
The first thing the paladin noticed was the blood; an alarming amount of blood surrounded the fallen troll, and the crimson stain was spreading, slowly. The second thing he noticed was the awkward angle of one of his legs, and realized as he started to move again that part of his bone was sticking through the skin of his thigh. The third thing he noticed was that the eyes were closed.  
  
Ignoring the bloody pool, Tshion dropped to his knees, and pulled off his gloves and gauntlets, dropping them where they happened to land. With shaking hands, he reached out to touch Jelah's face, unable to speak.  
  
He realized the skin there was still warm, but was cooling.  
  
“Jelah?” he whispered, terrified to move the mage in any way. He blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, ignoring the sting behind them.  
  
One eye opened, then the other. Tshion half-sobbed in relief, his thumb absently stroking the mage's cheek. There was no fire in the troll's eyes, as though it had been put out. There was very little life in his eyes either, and the only glitter there was from a glazed half-sight. One three-fingered hand lifted and weakly grasped the paladin's wrist. Tshion instantly turned his hand and slid his wrist out of its captor's grasp to entwine with it instead.  
  
The bare hint of a smile touched the troll's face as the eyes finally focused enough to look at the elf's face. “T-too squishy,” he whispered, and though his tone was amused, Tshion was not.  
  
The paladin squeezed Jelah's hand gently, and opened his mouth to say something, but the eyes closed again. The hand slid away.  
  
Tshion's mind felt fuzzy. His eyes wouldn't clear. He could hear his own voice, quiet at first, calling the mage's name, begging him to look at him again, to tell him he was alive.  
  
Someone had reached down to pull him away, soothing words that meant nothing to him washed over his ears. His own voice stopped working and he gave in – to everything. His body shook, and he didn't fight when he was led away, someone's arm around him. Whoever it was who had him kept him from dropping to his knees as they led him to a quieter corner, and then lowered themselves with him, and he was pulled against someone's shoulder. He buried his face against it and wept, feeling as though nothing would matter to him again.


	7. Whisper In My Ear

VII. Whisper In My Ear

 

Tshion had no idea how much time had passed. He didn't really care. 

He shifted slightly and lifted his head. Whoever now had a soaking shoulder held out a scrap of cloth to him, and with trembling hands, he took it, drying his sore and swollen eyes. He backed away a little, and the arm fell from around him. 

Tshion blinked, and found himself looking into a pair of sympathetic turquoise eyes. He blinked again.

“They took him to the Shado-Pan Monastery on Vol'jin's orders,” Selarcis murmured.

Tshion hiccupped in reply.

“He's alive, Tshion. According to Vol'jin, if they could bring him back from the edge of death, they can heal Jelah.”  He gently nudged the other paladin. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

Slowly, Tshion pulled away and got to his feet. Someone had left his sword, shield, gloves, gauntlets and helmet beside them, and Selarcis was picking up his breastplate and shoulder guards before standing.

As he sheathed his sword, Tshion looked around. The only people left now were a couple of Horde Grunts, a handful of Varian Wrynn's bodyguards, and some of the various leaders, talking with others who had been a part of the reinforcements. They had positioned themselves at a respectful distance, though a few occasionally glanced toward the two paladins, now putting themselves to rights.

One of them separated from the group and approached them.

“You two ready to get out of here?” Rynzia asked, quietly.

“More than,” Selarcis replied. “Can you send us-”

“Back to the Shrine of Two Moons?  Done.”  A moment later, Ryn had opened a portal for them. “Go on. There's going to be a bit of cleanup here, and it seems like peace talks – or at least a general ceasefire – are in progress. I wish I could send you straight to the Monastery, but... I'm not quite up to it.”

“It won't be hard to get there. Thank you, Ryn,” Selarcis murmured.

Tshion tried to smile his thanks at the mage, but she shook her head and patted his shoulder. “Go. He needs you more than we do, and you shouldn't be in the Healers' way by now.”  She smiled at him. “Find Vol'jin when you arrive. He wanted to speak with you.”  She gently nudged him toward the portal.

Hiding his shock, Tshion nodded, made sure he had everything, took another look around, pointedly avoiding the still-present blood-stains, and stepped through the portal.

Tshion frowned as he shook off the effects. He didn't much care for portals. They left his stomach in knots at the best of times, but now he felt sick.

Selarcis gripped his arm, steadying him. “Easy. If I had been thinking, I'd have had her send us back to the guild hall so you could get out of that... and bathe. I know I long for one, and to get out of this armor.”

Tshion chuckled weakly. “Agreed. I'm sure we can do something about it here, though. It's not like we all haven't stashed things, and right now, a cold bath in a river sounds heavenly compared to... well.”  He gestured at himself, and could feel the sweat and blood drying on the gambeson under his armor.

“I think we can do better than that. Just beware of Madam Vee Luo – she'll try to feed us as well.”  Selarcis turned towards the Shrine's Eastern entrance, leading Tshion gently, but firmly.

“The thought of food makes me sick, right now. Especially after all that,” Tshion grumbled.

“I know. Still, she means well.”

To her credit, the innkeeper cheerfully provided them with private baths, soap and towels. Once they had visited the bank and dug clothing out of storage, they retired to them.

Tshion closed his eyes as he sank into a tub of hot water, wincing as the heat not only loosened blood, dirt, and who knows what else, it managed to find every minor abrasion, bruise, cut and ache it touched. He soaked only as long as it took to loosen some of the tension in his back, neck and shoulders, then washed and stepped out.

Clean clothing that was not a prelude to armor never felt so good.

He met Selarcis in the common area of the inn. The other paladin looked as relieved as he did.

“Do you have everything you need?” Selarcis asked him. At Tshion's nod, they left the Shrine. “Would you prefer to fly, or take the long way?”

“Fly. The sooner I...”  Tshion stopped, unable to continue.

“I understand.”  Selarcis fumbled under his shirt for a moment, withdrawing a vial on a chain. “I'll take you.”

“I thought you hated that thing,” Tshion protested quietly.

“It comes in useful at times like these, and instead of taking a longer way by kite, I can get you there directly.”  Selarcis ran his finger over the vial and it glowed for a moment. Tshion stepped back as Selarcis growled, glowing brightly for a moment as his form shifted into a huge sand-dragon. Tucking his wings, he bent down on his front legs so Tshion could clamber onto his back. Once he felt the other paladin was secure, he took a few steps forward and launched off the terrace.

The flight took a far shorter time than Tshion expected. Lost in his thoughts, which repeated the last several hours over in his mind, he was surprised when they were already flying over Mount Neverest, the air this high up much colder than he expected. He pulled his cloak out of his knapsack and wrapped it around himself, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that kept repeating one phrase, over and over: “You failed him.”

Selarcis landed in front of the Monastery, and once Tshion’s feet touched the snow, reverted back into his humanoid form. Tucking the vial back under his shirt, he started towards the Monastery, tugging at the sleeve of Tshion's shirt.

Numbly, Tshion followed.

Just beyond the doors, Vol'jin himself stood, speaking with one of the monks. Both looked up as the two Sin'dorei approached. The monk bowed and left them alone in the ante-chamber.

Selarcis followed the monk after nudging Tshion forward.

Vol'jin looked Tshion over, then nodded. “You be Tshion, ya?”  Tshion nodded, swallowing audibly. “Don' look so nervous. I not gonna eat ya head.”  He paused, tilting his head curiously. “Ya attached t' that one, Jelah?”

“Very much so,” Tshion answered, quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Vol'jin nodded. “He call ya name. Reachin'. Didn' like wakin' wit'out ya there.”  He reached up and laid a hand on Tshion's shoulder. “He gonna be all right. Dese monks, dey know. Dey pull me outta worse den what he got. He just as stubborn as I be when I be healin'. Stay wit' him. He need ya.”

Tshion blinked, then nodded slowly. “Thank you, Warchief.”

Vol'jin chuckled, patted Tshion's shoulder and turned toward the door. “Mah name be Volj'in. Don' be forgettin' dat.”

He passed through the doors, leaving Tshion wondering what just happened.

“Tshion?”  Selarcis rounded a corner, and beckoned to the other paladin. Tshion moved to join him. “They have his bones set. Things were a little more complicated than they originally thought, and … Well, come on, see for yourself.”  He led the way down a hall and into a small room where a bed was partially hidden with a screen.

From what Tshion could see, Jelah's head was bandaged, and one wrist was in a tight splint. A strange contraption was set up near the foot, where his broken leg had been suspended by a network of pulleys, rope and a cloth sling. Briyanna sat in a chair beside him, talking to him too softly for them to hear, but whatever she was saying, Jelah's face told him that he was angry.

Tshion closed his eyes, pained, and looked away. “I can't,” he whispered. “I let this happen to him.”

“You didn't,” Selarcis whispered back. “Go. He needs you, and you need to be there, for both your sakes.”  Selarcis gently pressed a hand into the small of Tshion's back and pushed him forward.

Briyanna looked up, patted Jelah's hand, and got up. “Talk sense into him, Tshion.”

At the mention of the paladin's name, Jelah's head snapped toward them, and immediately looked away. Briyanna gestured with her head, and two other Healers, monks, from the look of them, departed. She tugged at Selarcis, but pushed Tshion around the screen, whispering in his ear. “He's not being very cooperative. Be gentle with him, Tshion. I've never seen him like this, and it frightens me.”  Without another word, she and Selarcis left, closing the door firmly behind them.

Tshion moved closer, and settled himself cautiously into the chair Briyanna had vacated. “Jelah?”

Jelah didn't turn to look at him. Tshion looked him over. The mage looked horrible. Apart from the bandages, Tshion could see bruising in his face, and could feel the tension of anger radiating from the troll even at the distance he was. His uninjured hand was clenched in the blanket covering his torso, and the foot at the end of the raised leg, also heavily splinted, was bruised. Another blanket covered his uninjured leg, but the lump under the blanket showed that his other ankle was splinted as well.

“I would rather not talk about it,” Jelah said, softly. Tshion blinked.

Tshion stayed silent for several moments, then reached out to pull the fisted hand between his own hands. “You're alive,” he whispered, finally, pulling the hand up to his lips and pressing them to the back of the mage's hand. “By the Light, you're alive.”  His eyes closed and he felt the tears stinging his eyes again, but this time of relief.

Jelah turned to look at the paladin then, and though Tshion couldn't see it, his expression was shocked. The fist uncurled, and he pulled his hand from Tshion's and touched the paladin's face, exactly as he had before he passed out.

“I thought.. I thought you were dead, Jelah.”

“Not... Not quite,” Jelah said, finally. Tshion opened his eyes and looked at the mage, leaning into the touch of his hand. “Would prefer it, though, compared to...”  At Tshion's sob, he regretted the words at once. “This pain,” he said, covering it. “Didn't think the wall would be so hard.”

Tshion lifted an eyebrow, ignoring the tears spilling over his face.  Jelah shifted slightly, trying to turn toward the paladin, gave up and sighed. His hand slid away just enough for him to reach out both arms to the paladin, who moved to hug the mage, as gently as he could.

“They won't let me move. They won't let me up,” Jelah complained.

“I should say not,” Tshion growled. “The wall, and the floor hit you harder than you thought, and you didn't bounce.”  He nuzzled his face into the troll's neck. “Why, Jelah? Why did-”

“I had to.”  Tshion leaned back and looked the mage directly in the eyes. “I had to, before you worried more about me than what was in front of you, trying to lop your head off. You had to stop him, before he killed us all.”

“I was supposed to protect you.”

“You did,” Jelah shook his head when Tshion pulled away. His good arm tightened, and his hand pulled at a fistful of fabric from the paladin's back. “No, damn it, listen to me. I... I didn't think I would... I... it was only supposed to be... I only wanted him to put me out of the way, out of reach, so there would be nothing more for you to worry about. It wasn't supposed to... do this.”

“Do -this-?  He could have killed you!  What if he'd broken your neck before you hit that wall?  What if hitting the wall broke your spine? You call this out of the way?”  Tshion's voice was rising, and Jelah let him go.

“You kept looking to where the others had collapsed. You were looking for me. You almost got killed in the distraction. And it did.”

“It did what?”

“They've already Healed it.”

“Healed what?”

Jelah looked away. “My back.”

Tshion dropped into the chair with a loud thump, stunned, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had risen.

“You've noticed, by now,” Jelah said sourly, “that I'm speaking normally, and I assure you, no one here is going to give me anything with mageroyal in it any time soon.”

“What else, other than your spine?”

Jelah took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then in a toneless voice, listed off his injuries: fractured spine, cracked skull, broken wrist, broken leg, sprained ankle, cracked rib, countless bruises, friction abrasions, bruising to countless areas and a dislocated hip.

Tshion sucked in a breath, and stood up, shaking. “Out of the way,” he breathed. “I know dead people with fewer-”

“I'm a troll,” Jelah pointed out, softly.

“One who is not going to be moving from that bed for at the very least a week,” Tshion shot back. “And if you think you are, I will sit on you.”

“I don't need to-”

“In. Full. Plate.”

“I'll be-”

“I. Will. Not. Lose. You. Again.”  Tshion turned around, his eyes glowing slightly.

“Again?”  The mage's confusion was evident, but so was the guilt.

“You were dead, Jelah.”  Jelah's silence was audible. “I have just enough Healer in me to know that, and knew when I touched you. They pulled you back before you could go anywhere.”  Jelah remained silent. Tshion went on, his eyes hard on the troll's. “I can't lose you,” he whispered, fear lacing his words.

Jelah closed his eyes, unable to take the intensity of the paladin's gaze. “I'm sorry,” he murmured.

The chair creaked as Tshion sat down again, pulling Jelah's hand into his. “Prove it, then,” he whispered. “Follow every order you're given. Take everything they give you.”  His voice broke as he continued, “Go back to being the fiery, incessantly cheerful troll who giggled at setting cultists on fire.”  He pulled the hand to his lips, still whispering. “And never do this again. I can't lose you. It would kill me to lose you.”

Jelah's hand closed around Tshion's.

It was warm.


	8. Remind Me How To Smile

VIII. Remind Me How to Smile

“No.”

“I've been good for a week!”

“No.”

Jelah growled, crossing his arms. The splint on his wrist had been removed, and his leg was no longer elevated, but none of the Healers had said anything close to resembling indication that he could stand up.

In fact, considering his femur was still knitting, he was to put no weight on it at all. Since his other ankle, which had since been discovered to have been fractured and not just sprained, was still splinted, allowing the mage to stand was preposterous.

“I can't stand this much longer,” the mage all but whined.

“Well, then stop pyroblasting mad Warchiefs' faces and then getting attacked by walls and floors,” Tshion said, without heat, but without pity. He was busy running a sponge down the leg not splinted, trying to ignore the nasty bruise where the Healers had popped his leg back into his hip.

Since he had arrived, and had a long talk with the Healers once Jelah had been given a sedative after they'd talked, he had remained at the Shado-Pan Monastery to help care for the mage, volunteering to do anything short of actual Healing, his own connection to the Light in that regard very weak. The other bed in the room had been moved closer so Tshion could hear any call during the night – or whenever the paladin got any sleep, close enough that Jelah could reach out and touch him if need be.

He knew the enforced idleness was driving the mage out of his mind, but there was little to be done. Tshion had left long enough to procure a deck of cards, a few of his journals and scribing supplies, and a few of the mage's personal items as well to help alleviate the boredom. They learned the pandaren's game of jihui, ironically from not only some of the monks, but others who came to check in on Jelah – including Vol'jin, to the shock of them both.

The new Warchief had only come once, and the visit had many purposes, one being to speak with Taran Zhu regarding Hellscream's fate, but also to keep up on his mage and the odd mate he had chosen, unsatisfied with the reports he had gotten from others who could move through the world freely. He seemed more satisfied with Jelah's progress after witnessing it for himself.

Unfortunately, Jelah still spent much of his time staring at the ceiling, unwilling to sleep as much as he was supposed to.

Tshion began to suspect he had stopped taking the sedatives that were supposed to send the mage into a Healing sleep, and on learning that Jelah had in fact only taken them when he was tired, threatened to make sure they got into his system in more creative ways.

Tshion could tell that the mage itched, horribly, to get out of bed and move around, and perhaps actually be allowed to bathe on his own for a change, but the Healers had quelled that idea with a look – one pointed look at his leg, and then his ankle.

“I have to get out of this room, Tshion,” Jelah pleaded as Tshion bathed him nine days after he had been brought to the Monastery. “I can't stand being like this. There must be something that can be done...”

Tshion paused in the act of dipping the sponge into the basin of hot water. “I will talk to the Healers,” he said quietly, squeezing the sponge out and working on the mage's abdomen. “I will see what we can arrange.” He noted the troll was thinning out, and frowned. He knew the mage was eating, he saw to it himself, though he made certain that the monks knew that he was a disaster waiting to happen in a kitchen. He could brew teas and tisanes, but other than boiling water, he was mindful not to offer aid in cooking. He did, however, work the fields and offered fresh vegetables and fruits from his own tiny plot in Halfhill when he could.

True to his word, he spoke with the monks the next time Jelah slept.

“We could bring him to the courtyard for a while,” one of the burly pandaren mused. “On a day with fine weather.”

“He loves a good view,” Tshion offered. “Is there a place he could look out on Pandaria where he won't be in danger of falling off a balcony?”

“There is such a place, of course. The courtyard has many places, in the gardens.” The pandaren tapped his chin in thought. “How to get him there...”

“I.. I could carry him, if it is not too far.” The Healer leveled him with a long, appraising look.

“It is not far, and as long as we had a comfortable place for you both, would be a pleasurable way to spend an afternoon. I'll arrange it for you, on the next warm day.”

Tshion bowed to the Healer. “Thank you, very much. I think it would greatly improve both his spirits and his temper.”

“A raised spirit heals better, that is for certain,” the Healer agreed.

Two days later found Tshion helping Jelah into a silken robe that would be just warm enough for the troll. One of the monks carried a pair of cloaks and some extra blankets out to the courtyard, where an area had been set up for them. Once he returned from the task, he returned to lead them to it.

Jelah was a bit too gangly for Tshion's liking, but he was able to lift him, so long as Jelah had his arms around the paladin's shoulders to balance himself.

“I could have cast something to make me lighter,” Jelah offered as Tshion lifted him from the bed.

“No magic for you for a while, Jelah. You need every bit of your reserves to go toward that regeneration of yours,” Tshion grunted back. He knew most of the weight was due to the splints, and having one leg splinted straight made the mage a bit more difficult to manage, but he didn't complain.

The monk led them out of the room, down a short hall, and out a set of doors to the courtyard, where it was clear which direction their destination lay. They turned to the left, and found a lounge and a comfortable chair with a table between them, facing outward over a balcony where a scenic view of the mountains and the sea lay before them.

Tshion carefully set Jelah down on the lounge, and helped him arrange himself until he was comfortable, then draped a light blanket over him. Some thoughtful soul brought them a tray of honey-sweetened ginseng tea and light finger-cakes.

Tshion and Jelah thanked the monk, who grinned at them. “Taran Zhu's orders,” she replied as someone else brought a third chair from a cluster of them nearby. “He will be joining you for a little while, if that is satisfactory?”

“He would be welcome, of course. We are on his grounds,” Tshion replied. The monk bowed again and left them alone.

Jelah stared out at the landscape, breathing deeply in the cool, fresh air. Tshion watched him, closely, and could see the tension draining from him, just from being in a different environment.

True to the monk's word, Taran Zhu did join them, not long after they had settled. He didn't stay long, and he kept the conversation light, at least until he prepared to take his leave.

“Tshion, might I have a word with you?”

“Of course.” Tshion stood with the monk, and brushed Jelah's shoulder as they moved back toward the doors leading back inside.

“I wanted to thank you for your help in restoring your comrade. You have done more here than many who have passed through.”

Tshion shook his head. “I'm only doing what I should be. It is we who should be thanking you for your aid.” He looked eastward, frowning. “Especially after-”

“You did not have anything to do with what happened in the Vale. You were there, fighting, where it counted. You risked much more than even you are aware of.” Taran Zhu looked back toward Jelah. “And nearly lost something you yourself are not aware of.”

Tshion bit his lip. “We had to take the risk, and he … took a greater risk still,” he started, but the monk shook his head.

“Have you searched yourself while you have been here, caring for him? Have you seen what it is you may have lost?”

Tshion looked confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Ah, so you have not seen it for yourself, yet. It will come, in time. Perhaps at a time when you are not looking for it, or thinking about it, it will come to you.” The pandaren bowed, and slipped back inside.

Tshion returned to his chair, and picked up his half-finished tea, looking thoughtfully at Jelah, who looked slightly agitated.

“What is it?” the paladin asked, finally.

“I dislike being idle,” Jelah sighed, sipping his own tea. “I feel like I need to -do- something.”

“In time,” Tshion said softly. “You're recovering remarkably well, according to the Healers.”

“It's not enough, though. While I enjoy your company and appreciate all you've all been doing for me, I feel as though I need to do something more,” Jelah muttered. “I don't feel like I should just be laying here.”

“The only thing you need to be doing, Jelah, is healing.”

Jelah's free hand curled into a fist, then uncurled again. “I am no longer in pain, isn't that enough?”

“Until your leg and head heal? No. It isn't. I'd rather not risk something worse happening because you tried to do too much too quickly.” Tshion reached over and touched the troll's arm. “I prefer you whole, healthy, and cheerful. If I could do more, I would, seeing as it's because of me that you're like this.”

“No,” Jelah said, sharply, turning his head. “No, don't you dare blame yourself for this. I was the one who made the decision. I was the one who cast the spell. I was the one who tore his gaze away from you. I'm the one who worried you, and I … I made you think I was dead, Tshion. How can you stand to be around me?”

Tshion stared at him, an incredulous look on his face as he mouthed the last words. He stood up, setting down his cup, and crossed to the lounge, taking Jelah's cup from his hands and setting it on the table as well. He perched carefully on the edge of the lounge so he wouldn't disturb Jelah's leg, and leaned towards him. “How can I stand to be around you?” he breathed. His hands lifted and pulled the troll's head closer to him so he could kiss the mage, startling him. It was meant to be short, fierce, and a statement.

It turned out to be fierce, desperate, and much deeper than intended.

Oh, and it was also a statement.

Jelah's arms lifted and pulled the paladin closer, returning the kiss once the shock of the action faded. His hands curled into the fabric of Tshion's shirt, but didn't move otherwise. Tshion led the dance, one hand running down the back of the mage's head to brush against the area shaved bald where a network of abrasions and open wounds lay beneath a smaller bandage secured in place, his fingertips glowing faintly with what little of the Light's energy he could offer. The other hand drifted down to the troll's back.

They separated only for the need to breathe, and without a word, dove back in at the same time. One of Jelah's hands drifted lower, tracing a pattern as it drifted to Tshion's hip, the other remained curled into the back of the paladin's shirt. The drifting hand began to tug at Tshion's hip, enticing the paladin to move, to straddle him, to move closer, something.

Tshion broke the kiss with a soft gasp for air, the tug bringing him crashing back to his senses. His eyes wide, he looked at Jelah, noting that some of the fire had returned to his eyes, as well as a touch of heat. “We can't do this,” he whispered, regret deep in his voice. “Not here. Not like this, not with you like this...”

Jelah made a soft sound of longing. “Why not?”

Tshion, with effort, drew away slightly. “In the Shado-Pan Monastery. On a balcony. Do you know how visible we are?” He stopped Jelah's answer before the troll could speak. “Not to mention what this could do to your head injury, and Sun forsake the thought, what if we moved wrong and did something to your back, your head, or your ankle, or your leg? We can't risk it. -I- can't risk it.” He leaned to touch his lips to Jelah's forehead. “No matter how much I want it...”

Jelah made a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Too long,” he whispered. “'s been too long.”

Tshion kissed the mage's forehead again. “Then next time, don't be so quick to get yourself killed, Squishy.”

 

From then on, they spent every third afternoon on the balcony, sometimes entertaining visitors, sometimes not. As time passed, Jelah became increasingly agitated, upset that he couldn't move much on his own, even after the splints were removed from his ankle. His head injury and his mending leg still had a ways to go.

“How can you not be itching to do something else?” Jelah burst one afternoon over a game of Hearthstone. “If I were in your position, I'd want to go -do- something.”

Tshion frowned at his cards and then at the table. “You need me here,” he said simply, before laying another minion and turning over several mana counters. “You're doing a lot better, and don't need to sleep as much.” He sighed and turned his mana counters back over. “I can't do anything else; your turn.”

Jelah drew a card and rolled his eyes at it. He turned over a few mana counters and played a spell. “Five damage, frozen on you,” he said, dropping the spell into the discard pile next to him. He turned one of his minions slightly to the side to indicate it had been used. “And one damage to your taunt, two to my troll.” He placed two red counters on his minion to indicate the damage. “I may not need to sleep, but I'm not exactly much entertainment.” He frowned at his hand and placed another minion, turning over the remainder of his mana tokens. “Your turn.”

Tshion removed five life counters from his pile and dropped them into the bag containing the rest of them, muttering to himself. Jelah had gotten very good at countering him, and usually wiped the floor with him, no matter what class he played. He drew a card, and grinned. He turned over half his mana tokens. “Two life to each of my minions, and myself,” he said as he placed a minion, and removed damage indicators, and added back two of his life tokens. “You do entertain me, Jelah, just by being here with me. You don't need to do anything special, remember?” He turned over two mana tokens and pulled a card from a small stack beside him. “Ugh, what does it take to get a Healing Totem?” he grumbled as he placed a Searing Totem card on the table. “Two damage to your mirror image, killing my murloc.” He removed said murloc from the table and discarded it. “Your turn.”

Jelah sighed as he drew. “I just feel...”

“Restless? Forced idleness can do that, I know.”

Jelah grunted and placed a card over his class indicator. “Secret, revealed on attack,” he said, turning over nearly all of his mana tokens. “Oh, and a fireball to that totem you just summoned for two,” he said, turning over the last two. “And.. um.. That's all I can do.” He looked up. “It's more than just restless. I feel like I want to rip my skin off and jump in the lake.”

Tshion hummed thoughtfully as he drew a card, and grinned. “And there go almost all of your minions,” he said, putting down a spell card, and removing two mana tokens to the side to prepare for his next turn, and turning three over. Jelah groaned and scooped up all but one of the cards he had on the table, dropping them into his discard pile. “Another totem,” he turned over two tokens and put down a Healing Stream totem. “About time... Please don't jump in the lake. It wouldn't do much for your leg or your head.” He looked over his cards and frowned. “And it's your turn.”

Jelah drew a card and grinned. “And have a fireball, with just enough to end you.” He put the fireball down, and sighed happily.

“Damn. Ah well.” They gathered up their cards and dropped tokens into their appropriate bags. “You've gotten very good at this. I call 'unfair', with your quick thinking.”

Jelah snorted. “Less quick thinking, more luck.” He leaned back into his pillows and sighed. “My head hurts again,” he said softly.

Tshion finished clearing the table, and shifted it back to the head of the bed. “Then rest. I don't like these headaches you keep getting. Do you want me to bring you something for it?” Jelah shook his head. “Are you certain?”

“I can't rely on pain potions, Tshion,” the mage murmured, his face scrunching a bit. “Though... I may rethink that. This one's-” He stopped talking, abruptly, and raised one hand to the back of his head. “Bad. Sudden.”

Tshion looked up sharply. “How bad?”

Jelah moved his hand away from his head. “Very. I'll take you up on-”

“Sun be damned,” Tshion cursed, grabbing Jelah's wrist and turning the hand into the light, the blue skin smeared with red. “I'm getting a Healer. Don't move. Keep your eyes closed. Relax.”

He was up and out of the room before Jelah could reply. The first Healer he found was a young female pandaren, sweet tempered and soft-spoken. Her eyes grew wide, and she returned to their room, and looked at the back of Jelah's head, and swore at the amount of blood on Jelah's pillow.

“Nothing to worry about,” she said quietly, taking the pillow and cleaning Jelah up. “This can happen sometimes, it's just a bit… very messy.” She drew Tshion aside, and murmured to him, pitched so only Tshion could hear her. “Find Yalia. His head is swollen, and this could mean trouble. Bring a snowpack and some extra bandages back with you.” Tshion's eyes widened and she patted his shoulder. “It does happen, but with an injury like this, we thought all the danger had passed by now. Go. Quickly.” She turned back to Jelah, saying brightly, “once he gets back with a snowpack, and some extra bandages, we'll have you right again.”

Tshion shook his head as he left the room and went in search of the monk in question, and once he had explained to her what was going on, she took off toward their room as he went in search of her prescribed pain numbing tea, a snowpack and extra bandages.

Extra bandages were easiest on the list, as they were kept in a storage area. The tea was next, as it was easy to fill a pot with the herbs and boiling water to steep as he went outside to fill a skin with snow. As he filled it, he felt a twinge, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt the twinge suddenly snap, then fade. Magic. That was Arcane magic. He finished filling the pack, and returned to their room, and stopped short at the doorway, nearly dropping his burdens.

There were now three Healers there, as well as Briyanna and Selarcis. Briyanna was clearly holding Jelah's head still, and Selarcis was clearly there to intercept him. One of the Healers extracted his burden from his hands before he could drop it, and let Selarcis lead him back outside.

“What the hell is-”

“Shh.. come on. I'll explain everything, I promise.”

Selarcis led him out into the courtyard, pushed Tshion down into a chair, and pulled a second one close to it, facing him. “First of all, there was some confusion. Second, he will be fine. Third, it's a head-injury, and you know that when they decide to bleed, it looks awful.” He took a deep breath. “All right. What's wrong with him. He's bleeding. It's normal with many bad head injuries, and it's happening late, which is why we all thought it was avoided. The pressure is causing the headaches. This also triggered his brain's recovery, so he wasn't communicating properly. We had to explain his accelerated brain function being the cause of his stunted speech. He's sedated, heavily, because he started to panic. They're taking care of the internal bleeding now. He's going to have a bit of an ugly face, but he will be all right.” Selarcis stopped talking, watching Tshion closely.

“He panicked?” Selarcis nodded, slowly. “What did they do to him to panic him?”

“They started asking him questions. He couldn't answer them. More Healers were called in, and Bri and I walked in on the confusion. They were about to crack his skull again before Bri intervened. By then, Jelah was … well. You know what he's like when he panics. Before he could hurt anyone, or startle anyone, she grabbed him and calmed him while they sedated him. One thing we can't do for him is something about the magical backlash. That's something you'll have to soothe away – that's way too personal for either Bri or me to get involved in.”

Tshion paled. “But he'll-”

“He'll be fine. His frustration is likely to be much higher, now that he'll have trouble speaking again,” Selarcis warned. “If that's the case... If you want Bri or me, or any of the guild to check in more often, all you have to do is ask. Many of us understand what you're going through, only some of us-” he stopped and drew a breath, “some of us weren't so lucky.”

Tshion reached out and rested his hand on Selarcis' shoulder. “I'm sorry this is bringing up painful memories, Sel.”

“It... You shouldn't be worrying about that, Tshion. The soul of your heart is in that room, and you're worried about me?”

Tshion blinked. Soul of his heart? Is that what...

“Either way, once Bri comes out, you can go back in there with him. I am supposed to instruct you, however, that if he should get so much as a twinge of a headache, you're to find a Healer at once.” Tshion nodded, numbly. His hand dropped from Selarcis' shoulder, and the other man caught it. “Tshion, listen to me. It's obvious to us all about how you two feel. You've traveled together as long as I've known you. You share a room. Anyone who has had the timing to be on that balcony at just the right time has heard you. You can't tell me you don't love him, and you can't tell me he doesn't love you.” He looked at Tshion for a long moment. “He knows... right?”

Tshion looked up, and for the space of a few heartbeats, Selarcis wondered if the other paladin would jump the balcony. The look on his face said he hadn't said it, but... “If he doesn't, he's a fool,” Tshion whispered. “If I lost him.. and I've told him... if I lost him, I'd... I'd be nothing.”

“No, you wouldn't be nothing. You'd be lost, heartbroken, feel like you'll never be happy again, and then someone would come and cheer you, bringing you out of the haze of loss and pain, and you'll go on with your life, savoring the memories of the person you loved. That's what we're all here for – we don't just support each other in battle.” Selarcis reached forward and hugged Tshion. “You idiot. We're here to help you. You'd do the same – have done the same, are doing the same. You don't have to bear this all by yourself.”

Tshion tried to pull away “No you don't,” Selarcis snapped. “Did you forget I'm also a practiced Healer? Out with it before it rips you apart. This won't be the first time, and it sure as hell won't be the last. Come on. Over here.” He pulled Tshion to his feet and onto the lounge where Jelah usually gazed out over the landscape. “Even someone who does little but comfort and support needs the same. Healer, Heal Thyself, remember? Even you got that kind of basic training.” Selarcis gently stroked Tshion's hair. “I'm sorry I didn't come out here sooner, Tshion. We knew what we were leaving you to, and some of the things that were likely to come up.” Tshion's breath hitched, and Selarcis nodded to himself. “That's better. You're tenser than a bowstring that's too short, and I'm willing to lay gold down that your temper is just as frayed. It's time to repair that. No better time, since Jelah is out of your reach for a while.”

Tshion finally broke; though it was much quieter than the last time, he wept against Selarcis' shoulder, listening to words of support, and promises that he wouldn't have to deal with the rest of Jelah's recovery on his own.

When Tshion tried to pull away, Selarcis let him, but only let him go so far, and it was so he could look him over, and to discreetly pull a handkerchief from his pocket and dab at the other paladin's eyes. “Feel a little better?” At Tshion's nod, Selarcis smiled. “Good. You're not where you need to be, but it's better.”

Tshion tried to pull away further, but the other paladin's hold was firm. “No you don't,” he admonished. “You've gotten used to a lot of physical affection from your mage. I know I'm not him, and it's not the same, but a little contact never hurt anyone.”

Tshion stayed where he was for a moment, then leaned against the other paladin with a sigh.

“You're worried about him. You're supposed to be. You're -not- supposed to keep that inside, however. I'm sorry to say that's our fault.” Selarcis reached up to card his fingers through Tshion's hair. Tshion's eyes closed, and he sighed. “He'll be all right. He's a troll, Tshion. If this was you or me, we'd still be recovering from that broken wrist. Think about it. Remember what you learned as a Healer.”

Tshion nodded. “I know, it's just...”

“Difficult because your feelings for him get in the way.”

“It's my fault.”

“It is -not your fault-! Tshion, he tried to protect you. He made the decision on his own. He's told you as much, hasn't he?” Tshion nodded, turning his face against the other paladin's shoulder. “Well then-”

“He could have died, Sel. He -did- die.”

“We wouldn't have let that happen. None of us. Not you, not me, not any of the other Healers. They converged on him the moment Hellscream was on the ground, and proved that he wasn't getting back up any time soon. Did you forget what our guild is built on?” Tshion shook his head. “Of course you did, for those few moments, and like I said, it's our fault for not being here with you to stop you from going this far.” Selarcis gently lifted a hand to turn Tshion's head, and nudged him just enough to make the other paladin look at him. “You need a break,” he said softly. “You need to do something else for a little while. Once you've confirmed that he's all right, I want you to come with me for a few hours.”

Tshion shook his head. “I can't... I can't leave him.”

Selarcis sighed, but smiled. “You're not leaving him. You'll return refreshed and ready to pick up right where you left off in his care. Let Bri handle him for a few hours. He'll be asleep much of the time, and she's fully capable of helping him when he's awake.”

“He won't like that...” Tshion frowned. “I don't think he'd appreciate being left in a female's care. Nothing against Bri at all, but he's not really comfortable around women.”

“Then he shouldn't have Pyroblasted Hellscream's face and then gotten himself bashed into a wall helping us instead of casting something that would have cushioned the blow enough that he might have gotten that concussion, but not everything else. He gave us an edge, instead, and others could have done the same.”

“He's awake,” a soft voice called to them from the door. “And he's not happy, but.. well, there you are.”

Selarcis let go of Tshion, after a quick squeeze of reassurance, and Tshion stood up, opened his mouth to say something to the other paladin, but Selarcis chuckled. “Go. You'll have time to talk to me later.”

Tshion went.

Jelah, as Bri pointed out, was not happy.

“Got... used... talking,” he complained as soon as Tshion returned. “Frustrating.”

“I know, but at least this means the damage wasn't permanent. Think of all the training you'd have to put yourself through to compensate for that loss in combat.” Jelah paled. “Exactly. You know I'm perfectly capable of understanding.” He perched on the edge of the bed, and pulled the mage against him. “I'm more concerned about you getting back to your usual self than having you always able to talk, you know. Whole and healthy, remember?”

Jelah grumbled under his breath.

“I... I'm going to leave you in Bri's hands for a bit.” Jelah looked up, curious. “Sel says I need a break.”

“Been here... nonstop,” Jelah pointed out. “Want you... healthy.” He giggled at Tshion's surprise. He raised a hand and twirled a finger next to his head, then pointed at Tshion. “I do.. this. To you.” He grinned up at Briyanna. “Now … to her.”

Briyanna's smile suddenly seemed rather glassy and fixed, but she laughed at the expression on Tshion's face all the same.


	9. Interlude - Run Away and Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selarcis turns Tshion's entire life upside down overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written via RP by myself and my fiance, who Selarcis/Jelah belong to. I just adjusted the flow and wrote the actual sex - because he told me I do it better than he could.  
> Here there is some incest. Yup. Incest. Trust me.

Tshion pulled the cloak around him more closely as he once again sat on Selarcis – in dragon form – as they flew over the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. He had no idea where he was being taken, but he suspected he'd be gone more than a few hours, as he was advised to pack a change of clothing, and some traveling supplies – and his combat gear. His bag sat between his legs, where he could keep a hand on it, while keeping a grip on Selarcis' back.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

Selarcis chuckled slightly. “You’ll see soon enough,” he rumbled in a low tone.

After a couple of hours in the sky, they found themselves at Setting Sun Garrison. Selarcis landed softly just by the front gate.

Tshion blinked as they landed. "This is why you wanted me to bring my combat gear," he said softly. He slid off the dragon's back carefully before retrieving his bag and shouldering it. "Isn't it?"

Selarcis tucked the vial into his shirt. "Yes, it is. Here we will train in a way they would not even dare think of back at the Academy. Remember all the times you wanted to kick the guy in the teeth because he called a violation due to 'no breaking legs!'? Well, here, there are healers that can mend that in a few minutes. Here we will get you ready for whatever we must face." He sighed slightly. "By the way, I'm going to kick your ass. No hard feelings, just be prepared for it." He smiled sweetly at Tshion.

Tshion grinned. "I do remember." He eyed Selarcis up for a moment. "I think you look enough like Bachi that I could give you a good fight. 'Don't draw blood, that's foremost to always remember.' To the lowest hells with that. If someone's coming at me trying to kill me, I want them to bleed. Preferably -all- of their blood."

Selarcis scoffed and began to walk toward the camp. "I helped train that man! The only reason he is in that position now is because I wasn't responsible for looking after you and had to go and fight..." he blinked a few times before glancing back at the other paladin. "Right... We will need to do some talking before we begin here. Let’s get our things put away, then meet me in the tavern up the road."

Tshion stopped moving, taken aback. Look after him? What was Selarcis talking about? "I... all right. Should I change now, or after?" he asked, looking at the blonde with a bit of apprehension.

Selarcis sighed and pondered for a moment. "Make sure your armor is ready to go afterward. But do change into something more comfortable.”

Tshion nodded. "That I can do." He started walking again, saying nothing, but still watching Selarcis curiously. He began to suspect some ulterior motive to getting him away from Jelah for a while, other than for the break he suggested.

Selarcis nodded and began walking as well. They arrived at the barracks with their things as a very toned and shirtless pandaren male came up to them. "Ahh, back so soon Sel? Now, who is this? You..." the pandaren bowed slightly. "You must be Tshion! Welcome to Setting Sun Garrison, I am Yumi Goldenpaw, one of the master trainers here." He smiled as he reached out his hands to take the paladins' things.

Tshion's face went blank for a moment before he remembered his manners and bowed back. "I am honored, Master Goldenpaw." He was a bit surprised by the offer, but with a sharp reminder to himself that for once, he was not in charge of everything, gave his satchel to the pandaren with another bow.

Yumi took the bags. "I'll show you to your rooms." He hurried down the hall toward the back of the barracks.

Selarcis smiled at Yumi, then back at Tshion, then followed the pandaren, not waiting to see if Tshion followed.

Tshion blinked again, looking rather shocked. He'd never been to the Garrison, he and Jelah not having had the chance to do so on their travels. "How.. How did he know who I am? I'm no stranger to many of the Pandaren, but I've – we've never been here." He looked at Selarcis, suspiciously.

Selarcis chuckled slightly. "I'll explain everything at the tavern." He stopped outside one of the curtained off rooms.

Yumi gestured to one on the left. "This one will be for you, Selarcis." he then gestured to the room directly across, "This one will be for you, Tshion." He bowed again before turning and heading back to the front.

Narrowing his eyes at the other paladin, Tshion nodded. "All right. I'll see you in a moment then," he said quietly, ducking into "his" room.

Though it was sparse, the room looked very comfortable. A bed lay against one wall, a small table beside it with an armchair, and a small storage chest in the corner. The opposite wall was taken up by an armor stand and a weapon rack, as well as several hooks. His pack lay on the bed. He opened it and began pulling things out, still wondering to himself how they were enchanted to hold more than they looked like they could, particularly things that were patently too large to fit – like his armor.

He hung the armor on the stand and racked a two-handed blade, a one-handed blade and his shield, all of which had been expertly repaired and restored by the engineers in residence at the Shrine of Two Moons. He changed into loose pants and shirt that would serve later as cushioning for his armor – his padded gambeson having been entirely destroyed during the battle with Hellscream. He left his boots under the table, and slid on a pair of sandals.

He set the pack aside in the chair by the table, and then left the little cell, looking around a bit for his companion.

Selarcis strolled out of his room in a very plain white shirt with blood red trim and baggy pants. "Go to the tavern, I'll meet you there once I've found out the plans of the Garrison for the day." He smiled sweetly to Tshion.

Tshion nodded, adjusting his dark blue shirt slightly before heading back towards the exit. Once outside, it took him a moment to gain his bearings, having seen the tavern from the sky, but not from the ground. By the time he reached said tavern, however, he wished he had chosen pants that were closer to the color of the grounds; the bottom hems were brown with dust. He patted them absently so the black was visible again as he waited for Selarcis.

Selarcis entered the tavern after about half an hour. A moment of looking around found the auburn-haired paladin and strolled over to him. "Sorry about that," he said wiping a bit of blood off his cheek, "Had to spar for the information I wanted... crazy pandaren." he said with a chuckle as he sat at a table next to them. "Want any food or drink before we start?"

Tshion stared at the other paladin, wondering if perhaps being crazy came about eventually, and wondered if this was his fate. "I.. Um." His stomach answered for him, and he suddenly realized he hadn't eaten since the last time he had brought something to Jelah... Or did he eat then? Perhaps it was last night. He colored slightly. "I think it might be a good idea," he said quietly, hoping that the other man wasn't going to judge him.

Selarcis nodded and waved to one of the bar maids. "Give us a round of the dumplings and a few mushan ribs... make that three racks." He smiled at Tshion before settling completely into his chair. "So, start now, or after the food is here?" He places his hands one over the other onto the table.

Tshion settled himself self-consciously. "I suppose we could start now, unless you'd rather wait," he said cautiously. He was beginning, for the first time, to feel slightly uncomfortable.

"All right," said Selarcis with a sharp sigh. "Well, I'm your brother. Not just of the Light, but by blood. The reason you're only finding out now is because we've been apart from the time you were... four, perhaps five." He looked into the other paladin's eyes.

Tshion lifted one long eyebrow at the blunt statement, staring at Selarcis for several long moments, waiting for him to laugh. His eyebrow lowered, slowly, and his look went from slight amusement to shock, then to disbelief. "I.. what? You're -what-?"

"Born and raised in the same house as you were, granted, many years later. But yes, we are brothers by family." Selarcis slowly leaned back into his chair. "All of this is going to be quite hard to take in, so just let me know if you need time to process it all.”

Tshion shook his head, unable to process how the other paladin could be so – so calm. "I – I never had a brother," he said slowly after a moment. "I had a sister, at least for a few months, but..." His head was already beginning to ache. If Selarcis thought this was a restful way to decompress from caring for Jelah, the man was nuts...

"Well, you do." The blonde pondered for a moment, then seemed to seize on those last words. "Sister...? What do you mean sister?!" Both of his hands were now fists on the table.

Tshion closed his eyes and swallowed. "She died, a few months after she was born. There was something wrong with her heart, the Healer said," he said quietly. "I..." He bit his lip for a moment, then went on, "If the Sunwell had been restored by then, there might have been some chance, but..."

Selarcis uncurled his hands and sighed deeply. "Well, that was something I wasn't expecting." He closed his eyes for a moment before sighing again. "That would explain why I didn't know of her."

Tshion narrowed his eyes slightly. "You... You're dead serious, aren't you? You really -are- my brother." His eyes searched Selarcis' face, hunting for the resemblance under the scars and lines, darkness in the roots of his hair perhaps... There must be something to tell him the truth.

Selarcis sighed irritably. "Why would I lie to you? You've been through enough over the past few weeks. I brought you out here to say that you finally have an ally that will understand you very well." His expression softened slightly. "If I put it your way, then yes, I am dead serious."

Tshion continued to stare at Selarcis, then ran a hand over his face. "I – I don't think you would. I just... I thought my family was dead, or at least missing. When Father disappeared and Mother died while he was gone... losing a sister only months old... now I come to find out that I've had a brother all these years who I never even knew -about-, let alone knew? It's not like ... I mean it's only been..." Unable to continue, the paladin shook his head.

Selarcis nodded slightly, "All right, let it take some time to soak that all in... We will clear things up after some food?" He smiled a bit at the thought of Pandaren dumplings.

Tshion nodded, slowly, still searching the other paladin's face. There. The curvature of his cheek as the smile bloomed, the light in the eyes. Mother. The line of his neck. Father. There was no mistaking that nose; one was planted firmly in the middle of his own face. How could he not have noticed all this time? "All right." /I have a brother.../ "I... I feel like I have to ask... how long have... I mean I didn't know about you – how did you know about me? You mentioned knowing me when I was little, but that was at least a few hundred years ago..." He managed to keep his tone from being accusatory, somehow.

Selarcis pondered for a moment, "As soon as I saw you here on Pandaria, I knew it was you. I was looking for the right time to tell you, but, with preparations starting for the attack on Orgrimmar, I didn't want you to have to worry losing more than a brother-in-arms." He smiled a bit. "And when I saw you with Jelah... by the Light! He is a fine one, even for a troll! You really did good picking that one up, I'm a bit... jealous honestly," he said, still smiling.

Tshion coughed, then blushed. "I understand why you didn't say something sooner then. As for Jelah... that... I didn't pick him up. He picked me up. Rather literally."

Selarcis chuckled. "You'll have to tell me how that went, all I know is that it happened in Dalaran and something about tiny portals." He eyed the other Paladin for a moment, grinning.

Tshion's ears went red. "Well," he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "It actually started in Icecrown. Or before, I'm not entirely sure. I met him on the way to Northrend, but just in passing. Long story short, he saved my life."

Selarcis grinned widely. "Oh please young brother; there was more than life saving going on. You may want to talk to your mate about his gossiping habits." He gave a wink as he closed his eyes into a delightful smirk.

Tshion groaned and buried his head in his arms. A muffled "Why me?" emerged from somewhere between his elbows. He lifted his head slightly. "Yes.. there was more than that, but not originally..."

He ran his hands over his face and back into his hair, tugging a few locks from the band holding it at the back of his head and giving him a bit of a wild look. "All right, you want details? I got sloppy. I almost had my head caved in. Jelah stepped in and stopped it. He helped me up. So therefore, -he- picked -me- up." His eyes unfocused for a moment. "We didn't even know each other's names, but we fought side by side, back to back for weeks up there." He looked back down at Selarcis. "Nothing really happened between us until we met again in Dalaran, purely by accident, a few weeks after the first waves against the Citadel failed."

"And the rest is behind you... and him..." Selarcis said, continuing to smirk. "I'm glad, just think if I had to deal with Noz up there, beside me!" He shuddered at the thought.

Tshion winced. "He's not -bad-... He just lacks experience." Color returned to his cheeks. "And yes.. it is behind us. It's hard to think about, sometimes, just how long we've spent together." He eyed Selarcis for a moment. "You said you were a bit jealous. Why?"

Selarcis chuckled. "Well, I've been with quite a few people, men and women. He seems like he could do some damage – in a good way."

Tshion's blush darkened. "Yes... Well, he can, in the right circumstances. He does have some rather interesting methods... talents..." He stared into space, and shivered.

Selarcis' eyes widened slightly. "You have got to tell me when we are in a more private setting later on. With that face, it is way too good not to share," he grinned at his brother.

Tshion blinked, then stared at Selarcis. "I... You... Please tell me my brother isn't as lecherous as..." He shut his mouth quickly, his ears all but turning purple.

Selarcis smiled. "Come now, baby brother! Don't be like that, I can assure you that I won't be too nosy." He glanced over to the wok on the other end of the square room. "Ah, everything is coming to together now, you'll love it!"

Tshion returned the smile. "Why do I not believe you, somehow?" He turned to follow his brother's glance. "I hope so. I have to admit while the cooks at the Monastery are good, much of the food meant to aid in healing is a bit on the bland side. Jelah will be jealous."

Selarcis nodded, "Yes it is; we will have to bring him back some of the dumplings, I'll keep the healers 'busy'." He grinned wickedly at his brother.

Tshion blinked, then blushed again. "Why do I get the idea that you're not happy if I'm not the color of Silvermoon's tabard?" He coughed. "He will appreciate that, greatly." He was starting to get the feeling that a "private" conversation with his brother would be interesting, even as he continued to get used to the fact that this man who he had called "brother" most of the time he'd known him was more than a brother in arms, or of the Light. The tips of his ears went red at the idea of some of the -other- thoughts he'd had, especially when Jelah...

... They were both out to see his head explode. He knew it...

The food arrived before Selarcis could answer; two platters piled to the tipping point with food. One of the platters had assorted dumplings of varying palm sizes. The other had five to six full sides of mushan ribs, still steaming.

Tshion's eyes widened slightly. /He can't really expect us to eat all that.../ "Oh," he said quietly, very clearly shocked.

Selarcis handed the female pandaren a small bag that clinked with the distinct sound of gold coins and bowed slightly. "Thank you." The hostess bowed and walked away. Sel turned to Tshion. "Well, dig in. I'm sure we will have to take some of this back to the barracks for the others." He smiled and took a bite out of one of the dumplings and squeed. "Redbelly mandarin! Yes!"

Tshion shook his head to clear it. "I was about to say... there's no way we could possibly eat all this..." He did pick up a dumpling, and sniffed at it, then nibbled at it. He grinned and bit into it with more enthusiasm when it proved to be filled with shrimp and crab. His eyes closed in pleasure as he chewed.

Selarcis popped another dumpling into his mouth. "So!" he said through a solid mass of cheek and food before swallowing. "Honestly, what do you think of your older brother so far? Crazy? Sexy? Will almost screw anything?" he grinned at the other paladin.

Tshion nearly snorted a bit of the bite he had just taken out his nose. He managed not to, then managed to chew and swallow before coughing. When he was able to speak, he managed, "Murderous!" A moment later, he managed to get himself under control again, and he leveled a glare at the older man, his cheeks reddening as he processed the entire question. "I... I'm not sure I'm informed enough to say more than 'crazy', since you certainly are that." He smiled slightly. "But as for the rest, just because you turn out to be my brother doesn't mean my attitude is going to change. You've always been a good friend and advisor to me. Now I know why you took it upon yourself to be so."

Selarcis peered at the blush mid-sentence. "More than just being your brother, I can assure you. It may have had something to do with you rivaling my looks... just maybe..."

The other paladin snorted softly, picking up another dumpling. "Hardly," he said, taking slow breaths to drain the color in his cheeks, and failing miserably. "You could look at someone, lift an eyebrow and have them in your bed that night."

Selarcis pondered the words of his brother for a moment. "Really?" He produced a look at Tshion. "This one?" he smiled mockingly at his brother before chuckling. "Look, we both have the same mother and father, and I can assure you they were after each other for more than their brains. So don't sell yourself short."

Tshion paused with his dumpling halfway to his mouth, and the tips of his ears went red again. He looked away quickly, suddenly finding a mark on the table -very- interesting. "It may just be," he said, trying not to look up again, "that I'm not as... refined?" He shrugged. "I admit I'm a vain creature, but if it comes down to living or looking pretty, I'll take living." This was most evident, as his hair was still sticking up oddly from where he'd run his hands through the top of it, some locks hanging loose, some sticking up, partially held by the band at the back of his head.

Selarcis nodded. "Try letting your hair down, before I cut the band off during our sparring." He smiled victoriously at the Elf across from him.

Tshion looked slightly taken aback, and despite his determination not to look at the other paladin, looked up at him. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he stuck his dumpling in his mouth, and reached up to pull the tie. His hair tumbled around his shoulders and face, slightly kinked from being up in the band, and tangled from earlier. He swept it over his shoulders to fall down his back before taking the dumpling, biting it at the same time. "Better?" he said, thickly around the mouthful of ... fish?

Selarcis gasped dramatically. "My, the beast can learn! I thought I would never see the day that one such as I could bring myself to train such an oaf." He cocked his hand in a dismissive way and looked skyward.

Tshion chuckled. "I'm not an oaf!" he protested, trying to pout through his laughter. "Er – wait. Should I instead be fawning and being all like..." He widened his eyes and clasped his hands together, giving Selarcis a soppy, worshiping, reverent look. "Please, Master, please teach me everything you know!"

Selarcis took a bite out of a dumpling before stopping and staring at Tshion with a bit of food hanging from his mouth. He cocked his head before sucking the dangling strings in and swallowing. "Look, if you're going to start that crap, I'm going to start throwing these,” He looked pointedly at the dumplings, "magnificent little bits of delight!" He flung a bit of pastry at his brother and grinned.

Tshion unclasped his hands as his brother spoke, and his hand lifted and caught the bit of pastry without any of the rest of his body moving. He handed it back to his brother, grinning. "You missed, brother dear."

Selarcis plucked the bit from Tshion's hand, threw his head back, and dropped it into his mouth. "There!" he resettled himself. "Like it never even happened."

Tshion smiled despite himself, and picked up another dumpling, one darker than some of the others. He pulled at the pastry a bit to look at the filling. His eyebrows went up again when he discovered mushrooms and other vegetables. He bit into this one a little more enthusiastically. These things were as good as the little pastry things Briyanna made, only larger. "That's good," he said, looking up again, proud that he could keep most of the blush from his face. "As good food is never a weapon, unless cornered by a hungry animal." He eyed Selarcis suspiciously. "I'm not a hungry animal.. am I?" He wondered at the fact that he was getting along with the older paladin so easily – as though his mentor had not suddenly told him they were related. Perhaps some things could never be changed.

Selarcis held up a finger. "Not yet!" he smiled. "All right, now we get to it. What do you want to know? And, how can I get the information I want out of you?" He tilted his head slightly.

"Everything," Tshion answered at once. "I know ... nothing. I didn't even know you existed until today, as far as being my brother was concerned. Anything you want to tell me about from, well, I was born?" He smiled. "As for how you can get the information? It depends on the question. Some questions I may answer at once, some I may not."

"Well to start, when mom popped you out,” Tshion squawked indignantly at Sel’s choice of words, “and for about a week after, you had wrinkles that made you look like father when he was angry." Selarcis smiled as he bit into another dumpling. "Also," he swallowed, "I pretended to drop you out the second story window and into a pile of leather. Mother nearly took my head off..." He sighed and took another bite.

Tshion, who had been poking at the dumpling in his hand and wondering what was in it by the way it moved, stuck his finger through it, and getting red bean paste all over his hands. "You dropped me out of window?" He tilted his head in disbelief. "How old were you?"

Selarcis sighed and shrugged. "Well, it was only a bag of flour... I didn't have the nerve to drop 'the new bundle of joy' out the window. I just wanted to scare Mom and Dad a bit... also, I don't want to say." He coughed softly.

"In other words, old enough to know better." Tshion grinned. "I imagine I was a pain in your ass while I had you? I remember nothing before I turned at least sixty.. if even back that far."

Selarcis nodded, "That pretty much sums it up. You were a lot better than I was as a child. You respected that fire was hot, sharp things hurt, and that no, you can't go poking the Hawkstriders in the ass." He sighed again. “I was gone before you turned ten, sadly. Dad wanted me to go and 'hone' all of my skills early... thank the Sun I did."

Tshion shook himself out of his shock, and began to absently lick the finger that poked through the dumpling in his hand., ignoring the stare Selarcis leveled at him while he did so. "You didn't seriously poke a Hawkstrider when it couldn't see where you were... What did you do with a sharp thing that you didn't figure out – I mean, you certainly know which end of the sword to hold and which end goes into your opponent, and I'm pretty sure I've seen you astride a 'strider at least once... and your hair is healthy so when did you learn about fire?"

Selarcis coughed again. "I may or may have not tried many times to balance the tip of my training blade on my... finger... more than a few dozen times. Also, that ‘strider had it coming! It stole my sugar-bread ball!" He looked down at the platters for a moment before cutting off a rib and biting into it. “As for fire, let’s just say breaking fire spells does not include scorched armor and torching your opponent – especially when that opponent happens to be Rommath.” His words were rushed, and he jumped to the next subject before Tshion could comment. "So. Do you blame yourself for what happened to your boy-toy?" He stared at him with a serious look.

Tshion rolled his eyes. "Yes... Well. I did know better than to do that." He pondered the question for a moment as he got over the mercurial change in subject, and sighed. "I do." He absently nibbled at the dumpling in his hand. "I should have been able to get Hellscream's attention back before he managed to hit him." He pulled the dumpling apart, without noticing. "I saw it in his eyes, the night before. He... he knew something, Sel. I think he was planning this earlier than he lets on."

Selarcis nodded slowly. "Well, you didn't cause it. He deliberately hit him where my blade cut into his neck. I didn't realize what he was going to do until Jelah was in the air. Neither of us were going to get him to look back at us, and I know neither of us had the time or energy to cast anything. From what I saw, Jelah didn't plan for the size of his hand. He didn't think Garrosh's hand would have enough mass to send him that fast toward the wall." He looked sincerely at his brother.

Tshion looked down at the dumpling and let out a mirthless chuckle. "I didn't see more than a flash by my side, and then the pyroblast. By the time I looked up, Hellscream's arm was already moving, and I was doing my best to stop it." He shook his head. "That doesn't explain the look in his eyes the night before though. Resigned. Knowing. I still say I should have seen it, and I probably should have watched for him to try something like that."

"And if you had we would both be dead. Think about this for a moment, one wrong move because you thought that Jelah was going to do something stupid before he did it, and Hellscream would have lopped off your head. What happened was based on calculation, the best possible outcome of the attack. I know it feels as though you didn't do enough to save him, but he never was going to be lost for long. Yes he died, for a few moments, but he came back to you..." the blonde trailed off and bit into a chunk of meat.

"I know that, deep down, I know that, but still. That's why he said he did it – to keep my focus on Hellscream, and keep his focus away from everyone else." Tshion sighed and started trying to salvage the dumpling in his hands, knowing that he should eat, but losing his appetite. How did the blonde know his mate so well? He sounded as though he understood the troll’s thought processes better than he did. "I suppose," he said after a few moments, "I feel as though I owe him for saving my life. I'd had visions, after I'd met him, and before battling Hellscream." He picked at a bit of the paste on his hands. "That I had to do something. Stop something from happening. After... after what happened, the place in my mind where that vision stayed just screamed... Failure." He shrugged, giving up on trying to be dignified, and began licking at the bean paste on his hands.

Selarcis pointed at the dumpling. "Eat, all of it," he said though a mouthful of food. "Look," he swallowed. "It wasn't screaming failure, it was screaming that you did it. Jelah lives to this day." He took another bite and slowly chewed it. "Without the motivation that was you being in his life, he would have done more to kill Hellscream than to just distract him long enough for us to finish him." He sighed. "I was the one who helped him perfect the mixture of agony to mageroyal. He needed it,” he hesitated, then added, “and needs you."

Tshion managed to finish the half-smushed dumpling, staring at the table, lost in thought. Something clicked. "You've... known him much longer than I realized," he said quietly. "If... If you helped him with that mixture... you knew him before he even knew my name." He closed his eyes, slowly. "And I know. I need him just as much. I just ... I know better than to let something like that distract me from my duty. And I did. I'm sorry."

Selarcis rolled his eyes. "Our duty is biased, I should know..." he trailed off again. "D-Don't blame yourself; it doesn't help recover from what happened. Just look at the bright side, Jelah is recovering quicker than expected, you now know that I'm your old, prettier, and much more toned brother." He pondered for a moment. "Oh, yeah, and there is this,” he reached into his shirt and pulled out a small locket. He tugged on it and the leather strap snapped off. "This is from Mother, she didn't want it to be lost." He held out a silver- and gold-swirled locket with crystal hinges.

Tshion winced. "I suppose you're right. Then again, he is a troll, and they are famed for their regeneration. And no, you're not old. Prettier,” he blushed slightly again, dropping his eyes again, "I will agree with. More toned…" He trailed off as he looked up again, at the locket. "That..." he narrowed his eyes, his brain clearly sorting through memories. "I.. I remember that." He looked up at Selarcis. "You saw her before she... she vanished?"

Selarcis nodded. "I was wounded and in the med-tent in the Bazaar. She laid it down on the chest before picking up my double-edged long sword that dad forged me... and went to hold the gate..." He looked down at the table for a long moment as his hand started to shake slightly.

Tshion's breath caught. Without a second thought, his hand darted out and took Selarcis' shaking one. "I'm sorry I asked this now, and not later. This is not the time or place for such things."

Selarcis ran his free hand across his face. "I never told anyone before, I thought I had lost everyone, like you did." He sighed but looked up and smiled. "Any time and place is okay to have an emotional break down!"

Tshion colored slightly, then smiled back, remembering back to the morning after in Dalaran, where one moment Jelah had been upset... and suddenly glowed with happiness. "I disagree," he said quietly. "But still. We have each other now, and that's something more than we did, right?" His eyes dropped to where his hand was, and pulled it back, blushing nearly to the tips of his ears again.

Selarcis nodded slightly. "That is true. Take the locket, it is your turn to carry it." He smiled at Tshion. "You'll need to find your own strap for it. I don't suggest metal, it can be rather uncomfortable."

Tshion took the locket with trembling fingers, grateful for a reason to have let go of the other paladin's hand. "I think I have an idea for it," he says quietly. He tucked it carefully into a pocket of his pants, where he wouldn't forget it. "Thank you."

Selarcis nodded. "I've yet to find out the key for it. I'm guessing it's a word, phrase, or sound. But I can't seem to figure it out." He sighed deeply. "Maybe your boy can see how it works?"

Tshion shrugged. "He might be able to. I have a feeling, knowing Mother, it will unlock only if the two of us do something at the same time, requiring whoever wound up with it to find the other. She was a bit on the melodramatic side, never the practical."

Selarcis chuckled. "That is very true.” He smiled. “Dad would have left a note on the back: 'the thing I call your mother when she is not around' or something."

Tshion rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm not even sure that he was serious when he... well." He looked up at Selarcis. "It doesn't feel like they've been gone very long, but..."

Selarcis smirked. "He was... a character..." he trailed off for a moment. "How much more can you eat?" he asked eying the mountain of still steaming food.

Tshion frowned slightly. "We-ell, if we stop depressing ourselves." He prodded at the partial rack of ribs surprised at how much they gave in. One eyebrow rose slightly, and he reached for the knife.

Selarcis picked up the rib on his plate bit into it. He chewed for a moment. "True, so, let us finish and get back to the Garrison."

Tshion nodded, running the knife between two ribs. "Are you planning on just running me around the ring or did you have something specific in mind?"

Selarcis shook his head "Nothing like that, just us being thrown into a ring and have about fifteen or so pandaren after us." He smiled at Tshion.

Tshion blinked at his brother around a bite of rib. "Eh?" he asked, his eyes widening.

Selarcis grinned. "You'll see." He bit off the last piece of meat off the rib in his hand and nodded. "I need to speak with a few longtime friends before I head to the barracks. Don't wait up on me." He smiled and stood. "Also, don't worry about taking any of this to them, I'll get it." Selarcis nodded, then walked toward a doorway in the back of the tavern.

Tshion blinked a bit, watching the other paladin go, and nibbled on his ribs thoughtfully, letting the past hour or so sink in. Somehow, he was getting the feeling that "a few hours" was meant to lure him away. "A day or two" seemed more appropriate for all that the older man was throwing at him now.

Unsure of what to do once he finished his meal, he looked around toward the door Selarcis had taken, then finally shrugged, palmed a dumpling, and stood up. If he was going to survive after eating as much as he had, he was going to need to stretch. He may as well get started on it now.

 

Selarcis walked into the hall of the barracks and quickly ducked into his room. "Tshion?" He called to the cell across from him. The sound of plate armor hurriedly being put on came from his room.

Tshion's voice floated out, sounding slightly strained. "Here."

Selarcis stopped for a moment, his mind faltered at the noise coming from Tshion's room. "Are you ready to see what I was talking about?" He finished securing his shoulder guards and walked across the hall to peer into his brother's room.

Tshion, armorless, was against the wall beside the armor rack, one foot tucked against his crotch, the other slightly out in front of him, standing on one hand, the other out to the side, breathing deeply, eyes closed.

The tucked foot lifted, slowly, as the other foot lifted, and they swapped positions. The paladin leaned to swap his hands with the same motion, miraculously not falling over in the process.

Selarcis stared at his brother with an open mouth. /Damn... he's good... he's really.../ He shook his head and propped himself against the frame of the door, waiting for Tshion to finish.

Holding the pose for another moment, Tshion's body remained still. Both legs extended, slowly, and he shifted so he was firmly grounded on both hands. His legs lowered as one to pause, parallel to the floor. A few heartbeats later, he was fluidly getting to his feet, standing facing the wall, and allowing his blood to return to where it belonged.

"I'm sorry," he said, hands gathering his hair to toss over his shoulders. "You'd said something... what was it?" He reached for his armor, and with the speed of practiced fingers, began strapping it on.

Selarcis smiled. "Well, now I know who the flexible one is," he blushed slightly. "When you are ready, meet me out in the ring. I want to show you what we are going to be doing before heading back tonight." Selarcis turned at once and headed for the gate entrance.

Tshion blushed, but could only pray Selarcis didn't see the reddening in the tips of his ears. He quickly strapped himself into his armor, belted on his sword, grabbed his shield, and was still adjusting his gloves and gauntlets as he caught up with his brother.

Selarcis smiled as he saw his brother approach. "Good, Yumi Goldenpaw and the other just finished with the feast preparations." He strolled toward a dirt ring lined with small wooden poles. Over by a small grouping of medical tents was erected the banquet the two paladins had ordered earlier. Steam came from the smaller of the tents, indicating more food was to come.

When they got to the ring Selarcis sighed. "Yumi Goldenpaw will be giving us a show, something he himself came up with, and then we will be performing after him." He grinned and nodded at his younger brother.

CLANG-Thunk.

The shield hit the ground as Tshion stared at his brother, fingers pausing in their adjustment of a shoulder strap. "We... what?"

Selarcis nodded again. "You'll see, don't worry! I'm not going to make you dance today."

Tshion reached down to retrieve his shield, brushing dust from it absently. "Dance? What are you... What are you planning to do to me?"

Selarcis grinned. "All the things I've wanted to do to a brother. And I've had many centuries to think of a list." Just then Yumi came down the path and hailed the two Elves.

"Greetings! Are you ready for a fantastic show?" He bowed as he stood within lunging distance of the two.

Selarcis nodded at the pandaren and then looked at Tshion.

Tshion swallowed. "I ... hope so?" He looked between Yumi and Selarcis, shaking hair out of his face. /Ugh.. as soon as he's not looking I'm putting it back up!/

Selarcis turned back to Yumi, who nodded and headed toward the center of the ring.

A loud gong sounded from the gathering of tents just up the path. A swarm of fifteen or so pandaren rushed the elder in the center of the ring. Sounds of tearing cloth, muffled firsts hitting fur, and grunts of shock and pain came from the center of the ring. The assailing pandaren were being brushed aside like meager insects or children.

Selarcis grinned again as he saw, one by one, Yumi fling his opponents away from him.

Tshion's eyes grew wide as he watched. This reminded him of the Rumpus at the Tian Monastery, and he grinned. He and Jelah made it through that. This shouldn't be too different.

After about five or so minutes none of the fifteen pandaren assailants stood, for fear of being struck again. Yumi had a smug look on his face as he wiped his brow. "Ahh, now see young ones; ignoring lessons of the past will come back on you when you least expect them to do so.” He smiled at the two paladins and gestured towards the center of the ring. "Your turn." The pandaren sauntered out of the ring and sat on a small grassy bump overlooking the two. A moment passed and the trainees got to their feet and staggered for the medical tents up the path.

Selarcis chuckled slightly and turned to Tshion. "Wow, that was great, don't you think?"

Tshion's eye twitched slightly. "I... That was certainly impressive, yes." He looked at his brother, grumbling as he shook hair out of his face again. "Perhaps I should have opted for a training sword though.. I only brought live steel..."

Selarcis shook his head. "No, you were meant to bring your blade. This is going to be a fight for our lives, so to speak." He drew his blade out and gestured at a woman next to a gong. "Once we are in, she will hit it twice, then we will fight. Try not to impale through the chest... but make sure they don't get back up quickly." He stood at the edge of the ring and looked at his brother.

Tshion swallowed, adjusted his shield's balance, adjusted the arm strap, then drew his blade. "No fatal blows, but don't hesitate to draw blood," he repeated back, shaking his hair back again before putting his helm over it and strapping it down with one hand.

Selarcis nodded "Well, fatal blows are not that fatal here. Do as you would normally do. Just know that no one will die." He strolled into the center of the ring and motioned Tshion to come to his side.

Tshion swallowed again, took a deep breath, and made a final adjustment to his helm before moving to join his brother in the center of the ring. He rolled his shoulders, then set his feet so if the intent was surprise, he wouldn't go down at once. "If you say so," he said quietly. "I'll have to trust you since you've obviously done this before."

Selarcis nodded. "Bow to her when you are completely ready for a fight, and try not to hit me." He sighed deeply and visibly relaxed all of his muscles. The blonde then bowed, hefted his shield, and readied himself.

Tshion nodded, then bowed, returning to his stance and hoping he was ready for anything. He raised his blade and forced his eyes to be alert for any movement.

Two rings of the gong echoed throughout the Garrison, then the low thundering sound of pandaren paws came from the tents. Only ten ran down the path toward the two paladins, but these pandaren were not trainees, they were either victors of the ring, or masters among the Shado-Pan. They quickly formed a half ring around the Elves and took stance.

Selarcis eyed an agile female just to his left. “Watch the girl, she’s cocky," he muttered to Tshion with a quick nod of his head toward her.

Tshion narrowed his eyes. "Right," he said, adjusting his sword grip. His eyes scanned the semi-circle, and waited for one of them to charge him. His heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation. It had been a while since he got to spar with someone else, let alone like this. It would be nice to have someone come at him not intent on slaughter for a change.

Yumi stood and smiled. "Do not kill, but, be forceful in your intent. Strike with fury but also strike with compassion." He bowed to the elves. "Begin!" The pandaren said as he sat back down with a thud.

Selarcis' eyes fixated on a shadow barreling toward him; he struck for the legs. There was a grunt, the sound of something hitting the dirt hard, a low moan and the sound of the blonde hissing. /She's a fast little bitch./ The eager female had jumped at her chance to get revenge on the outsider that bested her. She had come closer this time, but still failed, again, to defeat him.

Tshion's eyes darted to the shadow heading for Selarcis, then focused back in front of him. Another of the group moved, then another. Both heading for him. /Guess it doesn't pay to be "new blood",/ he thought as he darted forward to meet the first one, ducking a punch, and rolling to sweep one leg out to knock the first, a burly looking male, to the ground, then turning to focus on the second one, a lithe female who looked as though she'd been through a few scuffles in her time.

He swept his blade, aiming for her ankles, but she avoided the blade and kicked out at his shoulder. Biting back a curse, he rolled backward enough to kick at her midsection. With a soft "oof", she jumped back, softening the blow, and remained on her feet.

The male had gotten to his feet by then, and they both rushed him as he rolled and scrambled to his feet. Unwilling to use his blade, though he had been told to, he raised his shield and blocked a punch, then used the reverse momentum to shove the male back again.

Realizing too late he had left his side open, he felt the female's kick that knocked him sideways. He swept his blade out again, and the grunt told him he'd connected – but with who? The blood trail told him it was the female, who hadn't backed off quickly enough.

Taking the chance, he opened his hand just enough to fling a Light-created shield at her to force her back further. It bounced from her to the male, and he set his feet as they came at him again. He saw another of the pandaren run forward, and he prayed that this one, a large male who could easily crush him, hadn't scented his weakness, and instead was heading for his brother. Shifting his grip on his sword, he lunged, sweeping it across the two already coming at him again, aiming low, half of him terrified of causing too much damage.

Selarcis pivoted at once and lunged with his shield toward the pandaren. The shield connected and a cracking sound came from the pandaren's chest. Selarcis quickly took a step back and swung his blade to cut deep in the side of his opponent. As his blade was about to connect he closed his eyes. A massive hammer of pure Light manifested and dropped swiftly onto the pandaren.

The blonde turned to see the female he had first struck on her feet and heading for his brother. He turned swiftly and threw a hammer at the ground before her. The Hammer arced heavenly lightning that struck her in the chest and she growled in agony. A warm rejuvenating energy came from the hammer as well.

Tshion rolled to the side and into the lightning surrounding Selarcis' Hammer. He braced on one knee and swiped again catching the second female in the arc. He raised his hand and threw a Hammer of his own to the ground as he leapt up to his feet and jumped backwards – into another pandaren. He turned to see two more heading at him in addition to the one he just knocked over.

Swearing, he bolted back toward the pair of hammers still arcing lightning on the ground, and flung his hand out to one of the original two he had been fighting, a smaller Light-hammer landing on her head.

He was being swarmed, and he knew it. Panic began to rise in his chest and he fought it down, trying to keep his "enemies" in front of him.

One of them grabbed his leg, and instinct brought his blade slicing across the offending arm. He heard the cry as the hand was yanked back, and he used the momentum of the swing to slash at another. He turned, slashing everything in reach, low once again. He felt the blade connect twice, and he brought his shield up to repel something flying toward him on his right.

Another blow connected with his unprotected left side and he felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. He gasped, dropping the shield so it wouldn't happen again.

/I must look such a fool,/ he thought dismally as he rolled backwards again, trying to get some distance. He flung another Light-shield, and another hammer on someone's head. His eyes were starting to blur, and his head was starting to ache from the lack of air he could pull into his lungs. He turned again to feel sharp pain in his side. His breast plate was dented just enough to scrape him in a place his gambeson would have protected him.

He lunged to avoid chafing the area, only to realize he was in serious trouble. /They know I'm weak.../ He was also too proud to call for help – yet. He dove into a roll to gain some distance, then flung lances of Light into the area surrounding him. He heard snarls and sharp cries, and knew he'd managed to hit at least a few.

Selarcis turned at once to see the horde descending on Tshion. He quickly charged the biggest of the pandaren that was attempting to hit Tshion's flank. He felt a sharp pain wash over his leg as he connected with the assailant. "Bitch!" he cried as he felt the siting of nails biting into his calf. He toppled over onto the male he had struck with his shield.

The older paladin shifted slightly and kicked hard against the shoulder of the female that had clawed him. He felt the grip on his leg fall away as the female rolled backward. Just then, the blonde found himself being held down by the pandaren he had collided with. The paladin heard a cracking sound and he managed to get his sword to pierce the forearm of the male.

Tshion leapt backwards again, throwing another shield of Light as he landed. He felt the kick to his right side land on his hip and heard the ominous crack that followed. His head turned, and he shook it to get his hair out of the way. It was all the opening the female to his right needed. He saw her fist and managed to turn his head enough so it connected with the top of his head and not his face. He overbalanced and fell backwards, landing hard on his back. He swiped wildly with his blade as he landed, catching the offending female in the side. He rolled again, and stopped abruptly to sharp pain on his left. He glanced down as he knocked one of the males back with his shield. /Shit./ He didn't have time to heal the wound; not that it would matter with the way his armor was raking along his side.

He leaned again, flinging down another lighting arcing hammer, and rolling into it – and into a kick to his chest.

Pride be fucked.

"Sel!" The call came out as a croak, even as he kicked out at the male who had kicked him. /I'm better than this. I know better than this. I've handled more than-/ A kick came somewhere from his left, driving his bent armor plate into his side further. He summoned what was left of his strength and called on the Light for Healing – it was his only chance.

Selarcis wriggled the blade free from the pandaren's flesh and used the pommel to bash his kidney. The pandaren roared in pain and let the paladin free. He quickly staggered to his feet and gasped, trying to catch his breath. Turning toward his brother, his mind acted. He hurled his shield at three of the assailants and a hammer at a fourth, then dashed across the ring and dived into an on-coming kick meant for Tshion. The kick connected with his chest and his breast plate creaked under the blow. He hit the ground and slid for a few feet before letting out a moan of agony. His leg arched high as an attempt to strike the male in the leg missed. His heavy foot connected with a crawling pandaren's jaw. One of the ones hit by the shield had been knocked out cold and hit the ground with a thud.

Tshion recognized the blur that was his brother, and that he bought enough time for the spell to work. He scrambled to his feet, staggering as the dented armor split his side anew. He felt dizzy, but wasn't about to let his brother fall for saving him. He flung out a hand to send a shield into three of the remaining assailants, and bent to retrieve his sword. He shook his head, and dropped to one knee, gasping for breath. Realizing what had happened, he flung another hammer into the ground beside him, then began throwing any offensive magic he could at the remaining four. If he got back up, he would only hit the ground again.

Daringly, he reached for his blade, and swung again as two of them came at him. He pulled his shield tightly against his left side, and kept the arm stiff. He bashed the pommel of his sword into one of the pandaren's feet, hearing bones crack under the needle-force blow. He looked up. Three left...

Selarcis closed his eyes and completely relaxed. His hands began to glow and suddenly, everything went numb. He sighed and got to his feet. Looking at Tshion, he saw both pandaren roll to avoid the slashes. Selarcis rushed over and his shield shone brightly before crushing the last standing female pandaren's face as she was coming out of her roll. "One more!" he cried as he turned toward the final pandaren standing.

The remaining pandaren smirked and took a stance a few feet away from Tshion. "Your friend here seems a bit weak," he said slightly out of breath.

Selarcis cringed as the pain started coming back. "He is my brother; my kin and blood. He is not weak. He could best me if given the chance."

"Ah," the pandaren chuckled. "So then, you, the mighty Selarcis, are the weak one! How did you ever attain the title of ring master?" he spat on the ground.

Tshion draw the deepest breath he could, gritted his teeth against the pain, and let the pandaren talk. /Spit at my brother will you?/ He lunged forward, screaming as his armor tore his side open, and wrapped both hands around the pandaren's ankle, his shield digging into the pandaren's knee. He yanked as hard as he could, pulling the larger warrior down. He tried to call out to Selarcis, telling him to finish the last one off, but all he did was cough. He tasted copper, and reached out a hand to stop his fall before he fell face-first in the dirt of the ring, hair covering his eyes again.

Selarcis rushed forward and sank the blade deep into the pandaren's shoulder and stuck it into the ground. "See what happens, beast, when one gives into pride. My brother learned what you seem to have forgotten." He twisted the blade back and forth before striking the pommel with his fist.

The gong sounded and Yumi stood. "Healers to the ring! Bring the potions and herbs to the tents." He began to saunter over to one of the smaller tents.

Dozens of healers swarmed the ring with stretchers and windwool bandages. One by one the combatants were whisked away toward the largest of the tents.

Selarcis placed a foot onto the pandaren's shoulder and tugged on the blade which came free with a slurping pop. He cleaned his blade on the fallen pandaren's tabard, sheathed it, then turned toward Tshion and helped him onto an awaiting stretcher. "Don't worry, we'll get that rib out in a few minutes, and you won't even have the scar to scare Jelah with." He smiled and patted Tshion on the cheek.

Tshion turned his head to look at Selarcis, but his hair was in the way. He opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to cough up blood. He closed his eyes instead, and let himself be carried off.

Selarcis' brow furrowed and he looked toward the other end of the stretcher. "First, we get the rib out of his lung, then stitch the side. I'll take care of the rest. Work for you?" he asked the male pandaren who nodded in acknowledgment as he lifted his end of the stretcher.

After a moment of walking they reached the med-tent. Carefully, they settled Tshion down on a padded table and Selarcis began removing his brother's armor. When he got to his breast plate Selarcis gasped. "You didn't! Why weren't you wearing a gambeson – or some other padding more than plain linen? Damn it, why didn't I notice earlier?" He quickly went to work, stripping the ruined shirt from Tshion's chest, then numbing the area so the pandaren could work on easing the rib out of Tshion's lung and cleaning the area. "Tshion, Light help me, I could smack you for this... I had spares!" After he was satisfied with Tshion's internal injuries, he let the pandaren stitch the wound closed. He began rubbing a Green Tea and Snow Lily cream across the stitches, his fingers glowing slightly to heal the flesh beneath the threads. “You had only to ask.”

Tshion turned his head weakly, knowing he needed to stay awake. "Di'n't... s'pect... t'need... it..." His voice rasped and gurgled slightly from the fluid still in his lung, and he looked up at his brother. His eyes dimmed a little, and were full of guilt. "'M s-s'rry..."

Selarcis leaned over and rested his hand on Tshion's head. "This is not the time to be sorry, brother." He smiled and gently ran his fingers lightly through the auburn hair.

Tshion closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "When-" he stopped talking abruptly, starting to cough. He tried to sit up as the fit got worse.

Selarcis quickly placed a hand under Tshion's back. "We need to get the fluid out of his lung; do you have anything on hand to stop his reaction?" He looked at the pandaren who scanned the room for a long moment.

"Yes!" exclaimed the male pandaren. He knelt down in front of a small set of drawers and began rifling through them. The red pandaren plucked a vial from the back of the top drawer. "Liquid Lotus," he stood and handed it to Selarcis, "two drops on the tongue."

Selarcis took the tiny bottle in his free hand and flipped the silver latch open with his thumb. "Relax brother, this will clear most of it." He held it ready for Tshion's tongue.

Tshion's hands curled into fists as he managed to force his body to stop coughing just long enough to stick his tongue out at his brother. /Finally, a time I can stick my tongue out at someone and not get punished for it.../

Selarcis ginned. "I'll smack you for sticking your tongue out at me later." He nodded and dripped the drops on to Tshion's dry and cracked tongue.

Tshion made a half-snort, half-groan noise in response, which was all he could do with his tongue sticking out, and trying to not cough at the same time. He pulled his tongue back in and tried to swallow, and managed with difficulty. The coughing fit subsided, but his breath still rattled. He slumped forward, cringed and leaned back again, trying to find some position that didn't cause pain.

Selarcis frowned slightly. "Try laying completely back; almost arching. It should be healing over soon." He removed his hand from his brother's back and grabbed his hand.

Tshion shook his head, knowing better than to speak, now. The hand that wasn't in Selarcis' reached up and touched his chest, then his throat.

Selarcis nodded. "Not now, but when the fluid is cleared." He reached with his free hand under the wooden table and retrieved a small pouch. "Brother I need you to swallow one more thing. This will help with the pain, trust me." He took a mageroyal leaf out of the pouch.

Tshion lifted an eyebrow at Selarcis in a look that clearly said "you can't be serious". He bit back another cough and hissed at the pain it caused. /Deal with the pain, or be frustrated...?/

Selarcis looked at his assistant for a moment. "Could you give us some time to chat?" He said in a calm but authoritative tone.

The pandaren nodded and quickly left the tent, making sure the curtain was drawn shut.

Selarcis held the leaf in front of Tshion. “Don’t worry, you’ll be taken care of.” He smiled genuinely.

Tshion made another noise, and closed his eyes, taking several moments to consider. He knew enough that it would kill the pain long enough for it to heal. He also knew what mageroyal's side effects were. A single leaf, undiluted was enough to numb the pain on anything but a death wound, but.. even a single leaf, undiluted...

Tshion turned his head just enough to give his brother a very long, measuring look. He shifted slightly, once again feeling slightly uncomfortable in the other man's gaze. He drew a breath, and winced as he fought not to cough. His eyes darted to his hand in his brother's, at the barely visible stitches under his arm, and took a quick assessment of himself, then closed his eyes again and, hating himself, nodded, defeated.

Selarcis placed the leaf on the tip of Tshion's tongue. "Don't worry, brother,” he said sweetly.

Without opening his eyes, Tshion bit down. The taste was much sharper than any sweetened tea or alchemical potion, and he worked the leaf between his teeth to drain it before swallowing it, once again fighting the urge to cough. His breathing came a little easier after a moment, and slowly, he leaned forward just enough to keep the odd urge to cough at bay. /I'm going to regret this. Horribly./ He made a soft noise of relief when the pain stopped, and his shoulders relaxed.

Selarcis tossed the stem of the leaf to the ground and peered at his brother. "Water, tea, or something sweeter?" He said with a calm and soothing tone as his hand rested on Tshion's shoulder.

Tshion cracked an eye open, and coughed pointedly, gurgling as he drew in another breath. He took a deeper breath and coughed up some of the blood from his lung. His next breath was easier. He didn't dare talk. Yet.

Selarcis smiled. "I'm not trying to drown you, it is for when you are able. Do you want a book or something to try and take your mind off of the blood seeping into your lungs?" He took a wooden chair from the corner of the room and placed it on the side of the table and sat down with a slight thunk as he relaxed into it.

Tshion returned the smile, weakly, and shook his head to Selarcis' offer. He coughed again, and the gurgling lessened. He reached out a hand to his brother. "Talk to me instead?" he murmured, repressing another cough.

Selarcis grinned, but nodded sincerely. "Well, you had a bit of a block head when you were born. I wanted to put a crate on you to keep it that way. Then, with this block head brother, I would join the Darkmoon fair and have you be my twice a night 'magnificent Sin’dor-Block Head!'... Mother smacked me for even thinking such a thing." He peered at Tshion for a few moments.

Tshion stared at his brother, his eyes narrowing. "You... hated me," he whispered.

Selarcis shook his head. "I didn't hate you, just saw a chance at making some money. Ah, the things I dreamed about when I was a kid... thank the Sun none of them worked..."

Tshion turned his head, and stared at the ceiling of the tent, "tried to-" he stopped abruptly. He sat up, his hand flapping at Selarcis, the other lifting to his mouth as he coughed again, rather wetly. Selarcis quickly handed Tshion a towel and used his foot to scoot a bucket closer to his reach.

Tshion clutched the towel to his mouth and hacked sharply, gagged, then coughed several times, each drier than the last. He shuddered sharply for a moment, then drew a deep breath, and slumped forward, clearly dizzy. After several long moments, the brunette pulled the towel away from his mouth; a large part of it covered in blood.

He sat there, pulling huge gulps of air into his lungs, coughed once more, and then sighed. "Oh -Light- that's so much better..."

Selarcis smiled. "Good, once you feel ready, let’s get you back to your room." He looked at the brunette for a moment. "You did very well out there today, and given the fact that you almost blacked out to get that bastard on the ground for me, I must thank you."

Tshion toyed with the towel in his hands, his eyes focused on nothing. "You saved me first, Sel. I should be thanking you. I only did what was right..." He looked up at the curtains around them. "Besides, he seemed more focused on mocking you, and had the gall to spit at you. I wasn't letting that go..."

Selarics waved his hand dismissively. "Don't blame yourself Tshion. Just let it be."

Tshion snorted softly, then turned as though to get up, and thought better of it. "I didn't think being able to breathe would make me dizzy..."

Selarcis nodded. "Welcome to breathing fully. Also, this will implant the knowledge of how to better handle that kind of damage. Just remember, if you have one lung left, you can still win." He patted Tshion on the shoulder before standing. "At least you didn't scream this time. The last time you took your first full breath you screamed at me..." He quickly looked away from his brother, fearing being glared at.

Tshion leveled a glare at his brother's head, then grinned, tossing the towel at Selarcis' hair. "I think we could both use a bath after that. You can't be comfortable, and I'm sure you've got no end of aches – you may not have been ripped open, but I saw you get kicked no few times out there." He very cautiously got to his feet, his boots clanking loudly on the ground. "Please tell me they have a place here where we might be able to soak?" He winced at the soft pleading in his voice. Then again, he still ached, and his legs reminded him of that fact very quickly.

Selarcis cringed as he pulled the sticky towel off of his head. "Yes... I do believe they have a nice, private, bath house at the back of the barracks... You will also know that I get to scrub the dirt off your back." he sighed and dropped the towel onto the table. "Come, I'll lead."

Tshion sighed in relief. "Thank the Light." He turned to follow his brother, smirking at the back of his head. "They're not going to think I stabbed you or something, are they?

Selarcis shook his head slightly. "No, not in the least." He continued up the pathway toward the barracks. Inside the torches were lit and the smell of hot spring water wafted in the air. Once by their respective rooms, Selarcis stopped and turned to Tshion. "Bring causal wear, brother. After our bath we will be attending the feast."

Tshion nodded, and ducked into his room, gratefully stripping off the remainder of his armor and racking it. He hoped that his breastplate and his shoulder guards wouldn't be too difficult to repair as he racked his scabbard and dug in his satchel for another change of clothing: loose brown pants and an emerald green shirt, and soft brown half-boots. He dug through the satchel again, stacking a few books on the table by his bed and finally finding his pouch of bathing supplies. He bundled his things in his arm, trying not to let much of the clothing touch his skin or the sweat-soaked pants he still wore, and padded back out to look for his brother.

Selarcis reappeared from his room and nodded at Tshion. "Right then. This way." He turned and walked briskly down the hall. Bumps on his skin formed; clearly he had a chill, though from what was not obvious. Tshion lifted an eyebrow at his brother's attire of ... well it -looked- like a loincloth. He wondered if Selarcis spent too much time with the orcs again.

They passed through a large doorway and into a forked room. "Men on your left, women right." Selarcis turned and walked into the left doorway, leaving his brother to follow. Tshion followed the blonde and blinked at the fork, but continued following to the left.

Around a sharp corner it opened up onto a large chamber with a chest deep rectangular pool in the center. On the left side of the room were doors to more private cleaning areas. Selarcis turned and smiled at his brother. "First wash up, then come and soak. I'll make sure the water is not too scalding for the wound."

Tshion paused just past the doorway, shocked at the size of the chamber and its setup. "Ah... O-okay." He smiled back, then headed off to wash.

The smaller area contained nothing more than a slightly slanted floor leading to a drain, several pails of water, and a curved stool. Used to the pandaren way of bathing – though in smaller, more private settings, Tshion stripped his pants off, carefully stowed his clothing out of the way, and he and his mesh bag settled down on the stool.

The water wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. Tshion shivered as he drenched himself, and shuddered as the tiled floor washed pinkish brown with the blood from his skin. Ignoring the darkening of it the more he rubbed his cloth-covered bar of terocone and wild steelbloom soap across his skin, he let his mind wander a touch.

So far Tshion had a rather distracting day; finding out Selarcis was his brother was a bit of a shock, getting himself roughed up by pandaren was another, and now... He swallowed. He'd avoided mageroyal in any form since volunteering to stay and care for Jelah at the Monastery, as his desire for the troll had never lessened, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause pain or damage, a care he knew Jelah would toss out the window in favor of a good round of sex. Or five.

Tshion grinned to himself. Jelah wouldn't care about it being a Monastery, or that he was hurt after. The near misses had been enough when he dared kiss the troll. Oh, but those rare moments were delightful and just not enough...

He shuddered, and muttered a curse as he looked down. He pulled his mind back to the here and now as he finished washing and dumped a colder bucket of water over himself before reaching back in his bag for conditioner-lotion for his hair. He worked it into his hair quickly and tested the water in the remaining buckets. The third rinse was the from the coldest one in the room, and though he shivered, it did the trick. There was -no- way he could face the rest of that soaking room – or his brother – with a very obvious erection. He'd sooner drown himself.

Towels were in niche-shelves at about shoulder height, and he pulled one down to pat his auburn hair dry, then braided it, tying and tucking it to stay out of the soaking pool and secured it firmly, then gathered his things, and his dignity, and headed back out to the larger room, holding his clothing and bag in one hand, the other holding a towel around his waist.

Selarcis unlatched the solid wooden door and stepped out into the large soaking room. The blue and white towel, twice normal size, brushed lightly along the tiled floor as he tenderly walked over to Tshion. His right arm was filled with neatly folded clothes while a small pouch sat on top of the pile. "All clean, brother? Behind the ears, up the backside, down the front side?" He cocked his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Tshion blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and sputtered, "Of course I... are you suggesting... I... I'm not even..." He leveled a -look- at his brother and rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'll have you know I even managed my back without tearing out a single stitch."

Selarcis put on a look of over-enjoyment. "Good! You have grown to be such a clean, well groomed, and proper man of the Sin'dorei! I am grateful that I have someone such as yourself to call my kinsman!" He grinned wickedly at Tshion before turning and placing his things onto the edge of the pool.

Tshion closed his eyes for a moment, begging the Light to give him the strength to deal with his brother's antics, and for the self-control to -not- shove him into the pool and drown him.

Pushing away murderous thoughts about his brother, the younger paladin moved to the edge of the pool and set down his own clothing, then eyed the pool. Cautiously, he leaned to dip his toes in. Hot, but not -too- hot, just enough to warm and relax. In other words, perfect. He hesitated, then turned his back to his brother, removed his towel, folded it, and set it by his clothing, then eased into the pool, careful again not to pull stitches as he did so.

Selarcis turned towards his brother and removed his towel. After a moment of 'stretching' he tossed the towel on the ground over his brother's and hopped into the pool. A small wave rushed toward Tshion.

Tshion felt the wave hit his back, and turned around, eying his brother. "Careful! My hair is still full of conditioning lotion; I'd rather not think about the consequences of getting that into the soaking pool." He grinned. "I know it would probably be good for pandaren fur, but I don't think it would be appreciated, all the same."

Selarcis sighed. "That is true... Oh well, next time we are both naked and in a big body of water, I'll make certain to have Markana conjure up a tidal wave, just for you." He smiled and placed his arms back against the edge of the pool. "So, tell me what you know about Jelah." He glanced at the auburn-haired elf next to him.

Tshion cautiously settled, not trusting Selarcis to be still. He let his arms relax to his sides, and leaned back, letting the hot water work its way into his muscles. "We'll see about that," he grinned.

"What do I know about him?" He frowned after a moment. "It depends. He is very quick-minded, as you know, and his tactical mind is much more sound than I'd give most mages credit for."

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "I know he's studied in more places than I even know exist, and that those studies have diminished his accent." He closed his eyes. "He's ... mischievous. Very mischievous. Not necessarily a prankster, but close to." He smiled. "Kind, very sweet, generous to a fault, affectionate..."

He turned his head to look at Selarcis. "You knew him better, before I got to know him well. What do you know?"

Selarcis smiled. "You pretty much have him all figured out... Except for one thing." He relaxed fully against the tile and continued smiling.

Tshion lifted an eyebrow. "One thing? I doubt there's only one thing."

Selarcis shrugged slightly. "Of that, I'm not sure. But I do know of one thing." He closed his eyes and kicked his feet gently to float on his back.

Tshion dropped his eyes and quickly looked away as Selarcis' body lifted. "What's that?" he asked, curiously, keeping his mind -firmly- on the conversation.

Selarcis bobbed the lower half of his body just below the surface of the water. "Well, if I told you, that would ruin your special moment with him!" He kicked a bit faster, maintaining his waist mere finger’s width below the surface.

Tshion turned his head again, his cheeks darkening. "Special moment? We've... er... kind of... already done just about everything you can think of, and probably some you haven't." He snapped his mouth shut, turned his head to the other side, and dropped his eyes. The tips of his ears went red, as did the back of his neck.

Selarcis grinned at the ceiling. "Brother, dear, you will know of it when it comes to you! I can think of many more 'special moments' that you are thinking of, but I know of something that doesn't fall into That category." He turned slightly to see the red creeping up Tshion's neck. "You really do get hot easily. I didn't believe him... guess I lost the bet."

Tshion's neck cracked as he whipped his head around. "You lost what?!" He cleared his throat. "O-okay, you have my attention now, and it's going to have me climbing the walls." He didn't want to say "what in the name of the Nether do you know that I haven't learned in over four years?", but the words were on the tip of his tongue, which he bit to keep from asking the question.

Selarcis released himself from the side of the pool and stood slightly crouched to keep his chest submerged. "Brother you will learn in time! It's not my place to tell you this kind of thing. Also, yes, we had a little wager about the effects of mageroyal on you. I see now, and have a feeling that if I get any closer, I'd feel that I was wrong. The blush is spreading like a fire in the desert." He tilted his head slightly and looked at his brother.

Tshion dropped his gaze and turned his head, staring at the water level in front of him for a moment before closing his eyes, but he couldn't stop the blush from darkening. /Notnownotnownotnownotnow.../ "It's... not just the mageroyal," he whispered. "There are a lot of factors." He wrestled with his body and managed to cool most of the blush and keep any more obvious effects from becoming evident, but he could feel the tingling sparks of the beginnings of arousal along his nerves.

Selarcis waded closer to Tshion. "I understand. It's been a very rough and long past few weeks." He swiftly moved to stand firmly in front of his brother and placed his hands on Tshion's shoulders. "You just need to relax a bit." He gestured to the empty room. "Close your eyes, and let me work as a healer..." he said softly.

Tshion winced slightly as the hands touched his shoulders. His eyes closed tightly and kept his arms rigid. /Relax? Oh, Light you have -no idea- what you're asking.../ Automatically, it seemed, his shoulders tensed. The past weeks threatened to crash down on him, and several reactions flashed through and were ruthlessly repressed: hysterics, violence, and worse.

"I'll... try," he answered, keeping his voice as casual as he could. He turned on the ledge, his legs on the ledge in front of him, and forced his shoulders to relax a trifle, but kept himself under control.

Selarcis moved to settle behind Tshion and adjusted his hands to press his thumbs into Tshion's shoulders. "That is all I can ask of you, Tshion." His hands began to glow slightly and emanate a small amount of warmth. "Try recalling some of the things Jelah did to relax you. Maybe I can try and replicate them."

Tshion drew a very deep, very slow breath. As Selarcis' thumbs dug into his shoulders, his back and shoulders began to relax. "Most of what he did has no place here, I'm afraid," he said lightly. He instead thought back to his training, and his breathing slowed to the pattern he used while stretching, when he had the time to do so before a combat situation.

Selarcis continued rubbing. "Ah, well, that is a shame." He moved his hands down to his shoulder blades. "Did he cook anything that helped relax you?"

Tshion's eyes relaxed a little. "He did something with fish. I'm not sure what, but it was lovely." He twisted a bit, repositioning himself so Selarcis didn't have to reach so much, now that his body was cooler. He could feel tension beginning to drain from his back, legs, shoulders and neck, and his head began to droop as a result.

Selarcis' ears perked slightly. "Fish, now that I can do." He slid his hands further down Tshion's back.

Tshion smiled slightly. "You can cook? I... I didn't expect that. I'm a disaster in the kitchen. Lily kicked me out when I tried to help... and set the kitchen on fire."

Selarcis smiled, although he knew Tshion could not see. "In time, it takes a lot of practice."

"Mm.." Tshion slumped slightly further forward, as the heat of the water and his brother's ministrations began relaxing him fully. Without the tension, however, his mind was freer to wander, and his body could give in to other things, which started to become evident. The fact that he was being touched, especially so gently, didn't help Tshion in the least.

Selarcis began to rub the small of Tshion's back. "Everything alright, Tshion?" He almost whispered.

"Mm-hm, whatever you're doing seems to be working," Tshion answered quietly. A muscle under Selarcis' hands jumped, rippled into solid tension, then relaxed again.

Selarcis quickly moved his hands up to Tshion's waist. "How do you feel about Jelah?" he asked calmly.

Tshion's eyes opened. "How do I feel about him?" He lifted his head and turned it slightly. "I would have thought that would be obvious, considering my reaction a few weeks ago."

Selarcis chuckled slightly. "Yes, but I want you to describe it to me. I want to know -what- you feel, not how." He returned his hands to Tshion's shoulders.

Tshion blinked. "What I feel? What do you mean?"

Selarcis sighed. "Sparks, explosions, pounding heart, sweat on the hands, anything like that? Painfully throbbing cock?" He grinned quietly to himself about the last one.

The muscles under Selarcis' hands tightened at once. "Sel!" Tshion squawked. His blush returned at once. He took a few moments to calm his initial reaction, but his shoulders (and back) remained tense. "I..." He paused again. "I think there were sparks from the very beginning," he said slowly, cautiously. "When I found him in Dalaran... I don't remember. I was busy being relieved and thrilled that he still lived." He paused again. "I guess I can say all of the above, depending on the situation," he said at last, trying, and failing, to force himself to relax again.

Selarcis patted his brother’s shoulders. "Well, that is a good start. Maybe some food will help calm you down as well." He released Tshion and stood next to him; his back was toward the nearest edge.

/Calm me down?/ Tshion finally moved, and the shifting water brought several things to his attention in rapid succession: the water was still hot against his skin, his muscles protested the movement and the heat, and he was very obviously, and rather painfully aroused. He groaned, irritated, and quickly stifled it. /Oh, Light.. he knows. He must know./ Panic rose and he ruthlessly shoved it down.

Without thinking, he spoke. "Food is probably a good idea. Having nothing but that mageroyal in my system isn't helping."

Selarcis tilted his head for a moment and peered at Tshion. "That is true, let us stay here for a bit longer... Some parts of me are still stiff." He gently lowered himself down until his chin rested on the water.

Tshion blinked, then turned, slowly, to look at his brother. "Why," he said softly, "do I get the feeling you're not talking about your back?"

Selarcis shifted slightly and kicked his feet. His waist quickly rose above the water to show a flaccid cock. "My feet are not doing well in my current boots. I think I need Noz to redo them for me." He stopped kicking and slowly settled back down onto his feet.

Tshion relaxed, visibly. "I could do something about that," he offered. "I have learned quite a few things from Jelah; that is one of them." He turned and tucked up one foot on the ledge, and offered his hands.

Selarcis peered at him for a moment. "Thank you, brother!" He adjusted to give the other paladin more comfort before raising his legs.

Tshion chuckled softly. "Once again, it's only fair," he said quietly. "You are far more talented in far more ways than I. If I can do something, I gladly offer it." He pulled one of Selarcis' feet – the one closest to the rest of the pool, into his hands, and gently pressed his thumbs into the flesh of the ball of his foot. "Just let me know if I press to hard or too lightly – feet are tricky, fickle creatures."

Selarcis smiled and relaxed. "You won't do any damage, trust me. After kicking that female in the shoulder; I would be surprised if I didn't break something."

Tshion paused. "Why didn't you get the Healers to look at you?!" He glared for several moments, but his hands picked up where they left off.

Selarcis shrugged halfheartedly. "It is not causing me too much pain, and what you are doing only reaffirms my guess that it is just muscle pain." He lifted one arm to rest on the tiled edge of the pool and leaned on it. "Weren't you a healer at one time?"

Tshion laughed softly. "Me? Healer? No. My connection to the Light, despite the recent... changes... to the Sunwell, is very weak." He shifted his hands to run his palm down the center of Selarcis' foot, gently, then adding pressure with each stroke. "I'm a fighter, and always have been."

Selarcis shifted to look at Tshion. "There is nothing wrong with your connection to the Light. Perhaps a lack of attunement. When we have the house finished, we will go and visit the Sunwell."

Tshion's hands paused for a few seconds. He lifted them slightly to hide their shaking, under the pretense of shifting angles to work more on the top of the foot and the fleshy bit between the toes. "Okay," he said in a very quiet, not -quite- fearful voice.

Selarcis smiled. "Good! We will also bring Jelah. He might get a kick out of watching you ogle over the restoration attempts." He sighed and shifted. "I think we need some food. What do you say?"

Tshion chuckled. "Once I'm done with your other foot." He took a deep breath as he pulled the other foot onto his thigh and began working. "He might. He might also wind up thinking I'm weak if I get a memory surge."

Selarcis nodded. "Well you are really fantastic with your hands... I guess I can't say no to the other one."

Tshion blushed slightly. "Well, thank you. It's good to know I'm good at something other than fighting." He worked his thumbs down Selarcis' foot, just as carefully and slowly as he had the other. "And you can thank Jelah for teaching me. You want a hand massage after writing for hours on end, scribing glyphs for the vault, or taking notes or maps? He's unbelievable."

Selarcis scoffed for a moment. "So he did learn! I'll have to see if he came up with any more techniques..." His eyes slightly glazed over in imagination.

Tshion blinked, his hands pausing. "W-well..." He blushed and looked down at Selarcis' foot determinedly. "He... he is amazing with his hands in many ways. Many of them are rather unexpected, much like the first time he worked on my hands." He paused, his blush cooling slightly. "Sometimes I wonder if he should have been a mage or a Healer. Some of it may be what he picked up in his studies, but I suspect some of it has to do with his troll heritage, much like we all know at least rudimentary Arcane magics by birth, and orcs instinctively can fight and hunt. I'm sure you've seen some of the things he can do with a bit of metal and a few gems."

Selarcis grinned. "He had crazy ideas... Like one for a very effective lubricant from a combination of fish oil and arcane powder. I think he was also going to add some crushed mageroyal, but I don't think that would be too great." He slightly moaned at Tshion hit a very tense spot. "Right there, Tshion." He blurted out.

"That would explain quite a few things," Tshion muttered. He didn't jump at the sudden exclamation, and he had to fight down his reaction to the tone. "Here?" he asked instead, pressing his thumb against the spot again, his brow furrowing a bit in concentration as he felt for the knot.

Selarcis' hands gently clenched into first as Tshion worked the knot. "Yes..." He whispered as his face contorted slightly.

Tshion's breath hitched slightly, but he spoke to cover it. "If your boots are the cause of this..." He dug into the knot a bit harder, invoking a bit of his tiny Healing skill as he worked; one thumb dug into the knot, the other smoothed the muscle around it to dissipate the tension and push it elsewhere to lessen. "Come on," he murmured, softly, the knot being one of the worst he'd ever dealt with. Finally, it seemed to be loosening, but he couldn't tell properly anymore.

Selarcis groaned as the knot broke apart. "There..." He said. "It's been a long time since I've felt something other than stiffness and pain in that foot. Thank you." He shifted slightly again; trying to keep his balance.

Tshion worked his thumbs outward, moving the tension out, and away before running his palm down the center again, and back up to the ball of the foot. He drew his hands away. "You're welcome." He eyed the other paladin. "Make sure you get your boots redone – a cramp there could mean you hit the ground and make yourself an easy target."

Selarcis smiled and swam forward sharply and pulled Tshion in for a tight hug. The brunette froze, torn between hugging his brother back and pushing him away. His arms lifted halfway, awkwardly freezing there. After a few seconds, he returned the hug, and his muscles relaxed again.

Selarcis squeezed him tight for a moment then let go. "I wish I had found you sooner than I did Tshion. I feel a different kind of connection with you; I rather like it." He grinned and turned toward the edge of the pool, readying to get out.

Tshion blinked at the squeeze, but was relieved when Selarcis let go; his body was starting to tingle in a threatening way. To hide this he stepped up onto the ledge with one leg. "A... different kind of connection?" he asked. He felt nothing out of the ordinary, apart from the fact that this morning, he would have said he was rather attracted to the blonde despite having Jelah, and feeling rather guilty about it, and now...

Selarcis used his arms to hop up onto the edge. "Yes, I can't quite explain it, but there is something...” he trailed off. “Come on, let us get going. We might miss all the food if we don't."

Tshion shook off his confusion long enough to pick up Selarcis' towel and toss it to him before retrieving his own so he could dry off and dress.

  
Selarcis had been entirely wrong about missing the food – there seemed to be no end of it! Apart from the ribs and dumplings, there were rolls of grain and fish, vegetables, spring rolls in delicate pastry, tureens of soups, and several different brews from across Pandaria.

Tshion was introduced to not only some of the combatants they'd faced earlier, but many of the trainers, and he found he could learn to like this place, and vowed to himself to bring Jelah here. He could just see the mage dancing around a ring of fighters, delicately setting them on fire in strategic places with his tiny portals, giggling all the while.

He found he was able to forget his earlier discomfort, at least for a little while, until he found himself nodding over a steamed sweet red bean mochi bun. He was reminded that his day had begun before dawn. He looked around as he polished off the bun and found Selarcis had vanished into the crowd. His eyes scanned the area to find the glint of the blonde's hair.

Selarcis smiled at Yumi. "Yes, I know how that is. Some of the trainees back at Silvermoon could barely keep up against a berserker's quick blows! I couldn't help but laugh a little." He rolled his neck and in turning it, caught Tshion out of the corner of his eye. He smiled, and lifted his hand slightly to wave in a slight shooing motion, then turned back to Yumi.

Tshion smiled slightly, and begged the pardon of the group he was talking with, all of whom had seen his actions in the ring earlier. None of them were upset in the slightest, and wished him a good night and pleasant rest.

Tshion made his way back to the barracks and picked his way through it to find the bathrooms again, and then his room. Once there, he found his shoulder guards and breastplate racked with the rest of his armor, good as new. He smiled as he draped his clothing across the back of the chair and dug in his bag again for the silk pants and sleeveless shirt he slept in. Once he was changed and his hair loosely tied back at the nape of his neck, he debated whether to leave the lantern burning, and decided to do so, just in case Selarcis wasn't tired and wanted to talk when he returned. He penned a quick note to wake him if he'd fallen asleep, and laid it on the table in prominent view among the books he'd stacked there earlier.

He crawled into the bed and shifted so he wasn't laying on his stitches, and, thanking the Light that the mageroyal seemed to have either left his system, or had at least stopped pestering him. /Thank goodness for the easily digested foods here.../ was his last thought before he fell into a doze.

Selarcis was only partway down the hall toward the bedrooms when he heard a familiar snoring. He grinned and peered into Tshion's room. A quick glance caught the note, and he moved into the room to read it. He smiled, looked at his brother, then looked at the table again. Among the dark leather, a single softly faded blue tome stood out. /The book! I knew he would leave it out./ He crept around the table to the stack of books and grabbed the troll-skin-blue journal. He reclined gently into the armchair beside the table and began to read.

The soft creak of the armchair did nothing to disturb the brunette's sleep, though Tshion did snort once, turned over, whimpered, turned again and lay on his stomach, one foot dangling off the bed. The snoring did not resume.

After an hour or so Selarcis grinned and closed the book. He placed it down next to the pile and coughed softly.

Tshion didn't seem to hear the cough, but made a soft noise in his sleep. He turned over again, settling on his back, his -other- foot dangling off the bed. Instead of settling quietly, however, he seemed restless; perhaps in dreaming.

Selarcis sighed, rolled his eyes, then stood. "Tshion." He said calmly and moved next to the bed. "Tshion, I've something to ask of you." He peered at the mass of blanket and paladin.

Tshion made a noise that was clearly a response, though he didn't seem to wake.

Selarcis tugged at the covers until they came free. "Tshio-" He paused and peered down with a grin on his face. "Tshion, we need to have a little talk."

Tshion reached blindly down for the missing blanket, and instead found Selarcis. His eyes snapped open. "We what?"

Selarcis nodded. "I've done some thinking, and I want your input," he began but waited for Tshion to wake a bit.

"Nngh?" Tshion shifted further against the wall, carefully avoiding laying on his stitched side. His brain was a bit fuzzy, but not with sleep, though he couldn't tell the difference – yet. He sat up slightly. "On?"

Selarcis crouched on the side of the bed. "Tshion, Jelah has told me fantastic stories about you over the years. He has kept me up to date on every special thing you have done for him, to him, with him. Jelah has become so motivated by your relationship with him, and a new, more powerful fire burns within him. I've known him for many years, he has never been with anyone else. He tried to get as close to some others, but it never worked out like you have. I want to thank you for being there for him when he needed it most." He reached down and patted his shoulder.

Tshion blinked, staring at Selarcis like his head was on fire. /How ... how the hell do I respond to that?/ His head tilted slightly. "No thanks needed," he said, his voice gaining steadiness as he spoke, "He has done more for me than he may have told you. After-" he paused, swallowing hard, "after Aurelian disappeared, I felt lost. I realized over time that even though I swore I loved her... She never invoked the same depth of, well, anything that Jelah has. I won't go so far as to say he's my reason for living, but I can't imagine a world without him in it."

"He is your reason to fight..." Selarcis blurted without even thinking. He grinned slightly to cover it and watched Tshion.

Tshion's face went blank. His eyes darted to the table and he noticed the books had been shifted. He went very red, but nodded. After a moment, he said, "So you know." He dropped his eyes to his lap, and the blush shot up to the tips of his ears. "You know everything."

Selarcis placed both hand on Tshion's shoulders and squeezed. "Tshion, I worry about your current state. You need another release while Jelah is... recovering." He stared at where his eyes would be if he were looking at Selarcis.

Tshion looked up, eyes wide with shock. "I'll be fine," he said quickly.

Selarcis shook his head. "Tshion, I'm a healer. Don't think you can hide such things from me." He leaned in a little closer.

Tshion sighed. "I'm not trying to hide it. I will be fine." /Or at least I will be once he stops calling attention to it.../

Selarcis peered at him. "I don't think so, not given what Jelah has told me. Also, given your current state, I can't really believe you. I know it's been many weeks since you were last with Jelah." He leaned back a bit, but kept his hands on Tshion's shoulders.

Tshion raised an eyebrow. "My current state will fade, regardless of how long it's been," he protested. "What has Jelah told you?" He watched Selarcis carefully.

Selarcis smiled. "Many things, Tshion. Mostly of how much you mean to him." He let go of Tshion's shoulders and rested them on the edge of the bed.

Tshion relaxed slightly, and he picked at a spot on his shirt, not knowing what else to say.

Selarcis looked at Tshion for a moment before speaking. "He wants to know how you really feel about him, Tshion. He knows you love him, but he wants to hear it." He turned and walked slowly over to the armchair before settling in it. "I would also like to know what you thought of me before this morning. I don't want to guess incorrectly."

Tshion sighed. "I'm... I'm horrible with words, Sel. I'm a fighter, not a poet, not a Bard, not even a great speaker." He tucked his legs in a little closer, though it was obvious he was blushing; his ears were nearly purple. "Saying what I thought of you may do more damage than I care to think about," he whispered.

Selarcis shook his head. "Nothing will do damage. That, I can promise you. You don't need to be anything but yourself to say three words, brother." He leaned forward in the chair and stared at Tshion.

Tshion sighed, softly. "Then I will..." /If, that is, he still wants to hear them.../ He pulled his legs toward his chest, folding himself a bit smaller. "You want the truth?" He closed his eyes. "Before what you told me... earlier... I was rather attracted to you. I was a little afraid to come out here with you because of it – and its possibilities, but after this afternoon..."

Selarcis smirked for a moment. "Don't think that he won't want you after we return, Tshion." He pondered for a moment. "Jelah... has given me permission to aid you in any way, if needed." He blushed slightly as he stared hard at the brunette.

Tshion looked up, his eyes wide, his blush gone as the color drained from his face. "He... he what?" he whispered. "I couldn't -do- that to him..."

Selarcis waved his hand dismissively. "He understands that you are in worse shape than he is. You've been blaming yourself ever since he rushed Garrosh. It will eat away at you if you don't let it go." A small fire seemed to burn in Selarcis' eyes.

Tshion was silent for several moments, his eyes blank, clearly in the middle of some internal struggle. He wouldn't be in the shape he was in now if he'd refused the mageroyal, but breathing was far more important to him. Color returned to his features and darkened again. "I can't," he whispered, willing the other paladin to understand why. "Once his leg has healed enough that he can get home again..."

Selarcis sighed. "There is still the problem of you blaming yourself for what happened! Tshion, I know you don't feel right for thinking of it that way, but I have to make perfectly clear that if it will help for the short term, I need you to at least consider it." He sat back and relaxed into the chair.

Tshion ran his eyes across his brother's body without thinking. His eyes closed and he murmured something to himself that looked suspiciously like "Light help me". His eyes gave him away before they closed – the want, the need, the self-hatred for even thinking about it...

His body was winning the war; the last few weeks were crashing down on him harder now than earlier when he'd managed to force it away. Now, having been just awakened from dreams he would never speak of, he didn't have the strength to force it down again. Especially now that Selarcis had been flirting with him all day, and even more especially now that he had pure, undiluted mageroyal coursing through him. Even with his legs tucked where they were near his chest, he couldn't disguise the other signs of intense, painful arousal, especially not to a Healer.

Selarcis peered at him for a moment. "Tshion... If you want me to, I could get him on a crystal if you want to talk to him before making any decisions." He reached into a pocket in his pants and pulled out a small crimson crystal.

Tshion considered the words for a moment, and shook his head. He wasn't about to let Jelah see him like this and know the reason -why-. The offer spoke more truths about Selarcis' words than he could have gotten from even Jelah. "Does he know... who you are?" he asked instead, quietly.

Selarcis nodded. "Yes. He knows we are kin." He smiled shyly.

Tshion's legs shifted as he uncurled a trifle. His eyes opened again. "And you – what... how do you..." he was unable to finish the question, but he hoped Selarcis understood.

Selarcis nodded. "It's going to take some getting used to, but I think it will be for the best." He leaned forward and glanced at the floor.

"Without the Healer speaking?" Tshion asked, softly, "do -you-... want to do this?"

Selarcis looked up and grinned. "Yes, and not just because of how wonderful your hands are." He stood at once and walked over to the side of the bed and knelt down.

Tshion's calm cracked. His legs shifted again as he uncurled and leaned forward slightly so he could search his brother's eyes. "You're.. certain," he said again, burying his hands in bedding to hide their shaking.

Selarcis nodded. "Yes Tshion, I am. If it will help you, then I will gladly." He gently settled himself on the bed next to Tshion. He then wrapped his arm around his brother's back and pulled him closer.

Tshion snapped. The last of his control melted away and before the older paladin could so much as blink, the younger had his arms around him and was kissing him so fiercely it was a shock to his system.

Selarcis' other arm lifted, and instead of guiding the other, he allowed Tshion to lead, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Tshion's hands tugged at Selarcis' shirt without breaking the kiss, and he was pulling his brother under him, one leg between Selarcis'. The blonde, however, slid his hands between them and pushed Tshion back a little, breaking the kiss.

“Hang on,” Selarcis hissed, disentangling himself just long enough to pull his shirt off and fling it to one side. He managed to get his pants off, and Tshion's, and they went the same way; they'd find them later. Eventually.

It was obvious Tshion was impatient, but he knew how important it was to not have clothing in the way, especially with how he felt. The more Selarcis touched him, the hotter he was getting. A tiny part of his brain decided this price was never going to be worth the few hours of no pain.

As he pinned Selarcis beneath him again, his arm hit the table; there was a soft “clink”. The crystal had fallen over. Tshion missed the flash of light, his mouth too busy investigating Selarcis' ear and throat, but the older paladin had seen, and he grinned and waved slightly at it.

Selarcis let Tshion explore for a few moments, while carefully keeping Tshion's cock from coming into contact with him for very long. If this was happening, it was happening properly, and not in fits of desperation, no matter how tightly wound Tshion was. If Selarcis had to admit it, he might have admitted the mageroyal was overkill. He'd dealt with his share of desperate arousal, but Tshion had to take a prize there. No wonder he was so well fitted to Jelah.

The older paladin pushed Tshion back a bit, twisted his leg and ankle around Tshion's, and put the younger paladin on his back. Carefully keeping Tshion from touching himself, and keeping himself from touching Tshion, he explored his brother's skin, the scars, the muscles jumping beneath the skin, the definition of muscle that twisted and flexed under his fingers and lips and tongue.

No matter how much Tshion squirmed beneath him, Selarcis kept him pinned with hands and ankles, carefully suspending himself as he worked. No matter how many times Tshion pleaded, Selarcis took his time.

At least until Tshion made a strangled noise and arched upwards. Selarcis dropped a hand and prevented disaster by tugging gently on Tshion's balls, drawing them downward, and smiling slightly at the string of curses his brother flung at him.

Selarcis reached for his pants... and realized they were somewhere across the room in the pool of darkness where the light of the single lantern didn't reach. There was another flash of light and a familiar chuckle. Selarcis looked up and found a jar on the corner of the table, and then heard a female's voice start to say something and then silence again.

“What was that?”

“Shh.”

For a moment, neither Tshion nor Selarcis moved. “Must have been someone outside,” Selarcis said finally, his head turned, grinning at the crystal's light.

He retrieved the jar and distracted Tshion by biting his ear softly. “Be patient a moment.” He got the jar open and quickly started working the cool substance along Tshion's cleft, moving the jar to the table, and pinning one of Tshion's wrists to the bed.

Tshion hissed, knowing that sensation well. Very well. /Did they -plan- this?!/ He arched into the touches, and lifted his knees, spreading his legs so Selarcis had more space to work. He heard his brother chuckle as a finger slid across the tight ring of muscle, then circled it slowly.

Tshion tried to arch upward into the touch, trying to get Selarcis to -do- something instead of just teasing him, but to no avail; Selarcis' hand moved with him. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Tshion, but moments to Selarcis, the older paladin slid the tip of a finger in.

Selarcis, however, was not prepared for the noise that Tshion made, the arch that his brother was capable of, or the muscles that -pulled- his finger further in. The older paladin moaned softly, and gently began tugging at the muscle before adding a second finger to the mix.

Tshion couldn't keep himself still. He also couldn't keep quiet. His body trembled and his bit down on his own hand, his aching loins screaming for release, to be touched, something, anything. The hand that was not in his mouth was still trapped under his brother's, and he didn't dare free either one. Selarcis was moving far too slow, and the only thing keeping him from ordering his brother to get on with it – loudly, was the hand between his teeth. Tiny keening moans escaped, and it was perhaps those that encouraged Selarcis to add a third finger.

The moan that escaped the brunette convinced Selarcis that Tshion was beyond ready. He withdrew his fingers, wrenching another moan from his brother. The blonde dipped his fingers into the jar once again and made certain Tshion was well-coated before applying a liberal amount to his own cock, which had turned an interesting shade of red-violet while he'd ignored it. He was slightly surprised to find it weeping pre-come, unprepared for the effect his own brother had on him.

Selarcis shifted Tshion's legs to either side of his, and wasn't altogether surprised when one of them draped over his shoulder. He settled himself on his knees, and wriggled closer until the tip was pressed against Tshion's entrance. He pressed forwards, slowly, leaning over and drawing Tshion's hand away from his mouth to press his lips against the younger paladin's instead, muffling the tormented moan that emerged as he slid in, inch by agonizing inch. 

Tshion pulled back, breaking the kiss long enough to hiss, “Stop teasing me, Sel. If Jelah can't break me, you can't. For Sun's sake, -get on with it-!”

He got what he asked for. Selarcis, despite his better judgment, hilted himself at once, shocked to hear Tshion's hiss of “yesss”. There was a moment of angle adjustment, and Selarcis found himself thrusting much harder, much faster, than he intended. His arms slid around Tshion's back, and he found Tshion's nails dragging down his own.

Selarcis wrestled himself back under control; one of them had to stay focused, and Tshion was too far gone, if the slickness against his abdomen was an indication. He could feel Tshion's pulse, hot and fast against his skin, and though the older paladin slowed down, it didn't deter the younger. He was close. Too close, and Selarcis knew he couldn't stop his brother's progress.

Tshion was tighter than he counted on, and the spiral in progress was faster than he expected. He felt dizzy, like he had with no other. His control faltered, then crumbled faster than he could grasp it. He felt Tshion's teeth biting into his shoulder, felt the shuddering, the noises his brother couldn't keep back, and he found himself biting at Tshion's neck.

It was too fast, too good, and Selarcis felt the telltale signs – the sudden tightening, the throbbing, the swell and...

“Tshion~” His brother's name fell past his lips, whispered, desperate as he felt the surge of heat between them, and he was falling, unable to stop as Tshion's muscles locked around him, inner walls pulsing in time with every twitch of his cock. Selarcis' mind went blank as he spent himself in his brother's wake, harder and more intense than he'd ever remembered in the past.

As the haze cleared, Selarcis found himself smiling down at his brother, his shoulder aching. Tshion's eyes were closed, his breathing slowing, lips parted slightly.

But it was obvious the younger paladin was far from done. His hips rocked slightly as he moved against Selarcis' abdomen, still iron-hard. Selarcis leaned back and Tshion moaned softly as cool air brushed over his arousal.

Selarcis slowly, carefully withdrew from his brother, still slightly in shock. His hand moved to grip Tshion gently as he shifted to one side, stroking languidly as his brother recovered.

As Tshion's eyes opened, Selarcis could see the smoldering need there rekindle. “Let's finish this off, shall we?” Selarcis murmured. The need turned to molten and undisguised lust. Selarcis chuckled and reached for the jar again, applying it to his brother with soft, teasing fingertips.

Tshion's eyes closed again and he moaned, darkly as the teasing fingertips lifted away. When they opened again, they were rewarded with the sight of his brother working his fingers against his own entrance, stretching himself with practiced ease. A sound of desperate longing escaped him, making Selarcis look up, his own eyes glowing slightly brighter than normal, heated with want.

The older paladin drew his hand away, then carefully pulled his brother over him as he turned to lie on his back. His arms curled around Tshion's back and pulled him closer. “Fuck me,” he whispered against Tshion's ear, “like you do him. No control. No holding back. Release it all, Tshion. Let it go.”

Tshion shook his head, moving slowly and deliberately to get them both comfortable again.

“What are you shaking your head to?” Selarcis whispered. Tshion ignored the question as he lined himself up. “Tshion. Answer me.” Tshion ran his hands down Selarcis' sides, drawing an involuntary gasp. “Tshion,” he tried again, but still, the younger paladin ignored him, choosing instead to pull not one of his brother’s legs over a shoulder, but both. “I'm going to lock up if you don't answer me.”

“You don't want me without control,” Tshion whispered back.

Selarcis lifted a hand and moved Tshion's head enough so he could look at him. He found Tshion's eyes and held them for a moment. “No. Control.”

Tshion made a noise that was almost a whimper, almost a sob. “You don't want me to do that.”

Selarcis glanced to the side for a few seconds, in the direction of the crystal. When he turned back to look at Tshion again, he sighed, leaned up, and kissed him. “All right then.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, looking Tshion in the eyes again.

“Damn it, Selarcis...” Tshion found that he couldn't look away. He also found his mind racing with everything that had happened since the day before the battle. His hands tightened on Selarcis' hips, and he ran his hands upward along the underside of the older paladin's thighs, and was rewarded with his mind suddenly being fuzzy again... but that might have been due to the fact that Selarcis was biting his lip hard enough to bleed, and making a soft squeaking noise.

Tshion lifted an eyebrow and ran his hands along the spots they just occupied until –

“Nnnrk!”

Tshion smirked, and rubbed the spot he found along the back of Selarcis' left thigh. His eyes slid back to Selarcis' face, which had turned an interesting shade of pink. “Last chance to change your mind, Sel.”

Selarcis shook his head. “No control, Tshion.” He smiled to himself when he saw Tshion's nod, and settled himself to be taken.

He didn't expect the next move. He couldn't have started to anticipate.

Tshion leaned forward, catching Selarcis' knees against his shoulders and lifted him slightly as he nudged forward, slowly, evenly until he was completely buried in his brother's heat. Tshion's hands dragged gently along Selarcis' thighs and curled firmly in the space between hip and buttock that he could get a good grip on, and only then did Selarcis realize he was in trouble.

Selarcis knew those hands would leave bruises. He could see the tension in Tshion's abs before his brother moved. He saw the eyes glaze over, and … his brother was a talker?

Words, admissions began the tirade of quiet words, and his tone could have melted the walls. “... could never admit it; I'm mated to someone and refuse to give that up but oh Light there were nights I couldn't stop thinking about what this would have been like but I would never...”

Selarcis found his hands curling into fists along Tshion's back. His brother hadn't stopped moving, his words whispered now; the guilt, the worry, “...I never should have looked away, but I had to, I had to know what he was doing to make sure he wouldn't get himself killed and he did anyway and I nearly killed you in the process...”

Tshion was leaning further forward now, his legs slightly apart and Selarcis realized he was suspended. He also realized that made him rather hotter than he was used to. His abs, still damp from Tshion's first release, were slicked with his own pre-come. Tshion's voice did things, even though the words were far from what he would call “sexy”, the voice, the tone, the fact that Tshion was fucking him -to- those words, and the worse the words were, the harder his brothers thrusts came.

Selarcis realized also that Tshion was holding back; he could feel the exertion it took. He let Tshion lead; as long as those words flowed, there was some good being done.

The words slowed and stopped, and Tshion paused, tracing his hands along Selarcis' thighs. Selarcis looked up at him to find Tshion looking back. Tshion's eyes were roaming down his brother's body, as though committing it to memory. His hands paused and he grinned.

That grin made Selarcis shiver. One of his legs slipped, and he realized Tshion had slid it off his shoulder. The angle changed, and Selarcis lifted his hand to his mouth to stop the cry from escaping. Tshion began to move, slowly, as he repositioned his brother's leg around his hip, twisting his own body to the side very slightly. One arm and hand supported Selarcis' leg, teasing it from hip to knee. The other hand curled around Selarcis' cock, and began palming it, slowly, in time with his own thrusts.

“You wanted no control, did you not?” Tshion asked, softly. Selarcis could only nod at him, still in shock at the position he found himself in. “Good,” he whispered softly, “because I don't have much left.” He reached down to encourage Selarcis to lean up. “Lean forward. Arms around me.” He smiled when his brother looked at him as though he was crazy. “Trust me, Sel.” He aided his brother in leaning up, and without moving his hand from the blonde's cock, wrapped the other arm around his back.

Selarcis found himself entirely suspended now, but realized that he could counter his brother's thrusts this way. “You told me to fuck you like I do him,” Tshion whispered against his ear. “I am – before I lose everything...” Selarcis realized his voice was strained, and with a brief glance along Tshion's body with a Healer's gaze, saw the strain he was under.

/Oh Light this is going to be a bit more intense for him than I thought. That mageroyal was a bad ide-/ “Ah!” Tshion had jerked his hips upward, and chuckled at the cry he managed to force out of his brother. Selarcis' look of shock only fanned the flame.

Tshion's free hand slid down his brother's back and around to his thigh. “Rock from here,” he managed to gasp out.

Selarcis moved, experimentally as Tshion’s hand moved back upwards to support him. It was shockingly simple, though his leg felt odd, contorted as it was. He moved again, and this time Tshion rocked his hips upward to meet him. /Oh, this is…/ It took them a moment to find a rhythm, but when they did, Selarcis had to admit that it hit all the right places, and the tiny sounds coming from his brother – and himself – were too delicious to ignore.

Tshion’s nails digging into his back were a nice bonus.

Selarcis found it difficult to keep up as Tshion started moving faster, and he leaned forward and bit Tshion’s ear to bring his brother back to ground. Tshion leaned forward, gently dropping Selarcis back onto the bed and shifting his legs forward as he lowered himself onto his heels. The hand that had been around the older paladin’s back slid out from under him, and found Selarcis’ wrist. Without warning, that wrist was pinned tightly against the bed.

Selarcis gasped, his eyes opening and finding Tshion looking at him from above him, eyes hooded and glazed. If anyone – including Jelah – had told him what his brother was like in bed, he would have told them they were high, or drugged, or dreaming. At least, he would have before now. His eyes widened as the hand between them began to move in interesting ways, not remaining straight, but twisting so Tshion’s palm wasn’t always against the underside of his shaft, so his fingertips weren’t the only thing pressing against the head. He shuddered when the pad of his thumb brushed across the slit at the tip, then pressed it for a moment and released it. /What did Jelah -teach- him?!/

It was several moments before Tshion began to move again, but Selarcis realized he had been still before he moved. There were no deliberate shifts, no drops to change the angle. Tshion’s concentration was on his hand, and his eyes hot on his brother’s.

At the sound of his brother’s voice, Selarcis very nearly knew what a loss of control felt like. “Can’t… keep this up, Sel.” Tshion’s voice wasn’t quite pleading, but there was a desperation in it that Selarcis had never heard from any of his bedmates, ever. Tshion’s hand kept up its odd movements as he continued, “can’t keep it back…”

Selarcis was shocked to find himself answering aloud the question in his mind: “Why are you trying?”

Tshion squeezed him lightly. “Not done,” he whispered. Selarcis opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a swift kiss. “Want to feel – you,” Tshion hissed in his ear, “want to -know- how you feel, want to know what you feel, want to know you wanted this, want this.”

The older paladin’s free hand slid down Tshion’s arm to still his wrist. “This isn’t about me.”

Tshion shook him off. “Making it about us both.” Selarcis twitched under his hand, and the hand against his wrist moved to wrap around his shoulder instead, pulling him closer for a moment. Tshion shook the arm off gently as he leaned back, dropping his eyes, watching his own hand – or rather, the turgid flesh beneath it.

/Notfairnotfair…/ Selarcis’ mind protested. He was close, and had been denying that fact since he first found himself suspended over Tshion’s shoulders.

…And Tshion knew it, judging by the way his hand dropped to brush against his brother’s balls, feather touches that made their ache plain. “Tshion…” he warned, his eyes widening. The feather touch moved upward along his shaft, and were worse than if Tshion had squeezed him. “Tshion,” he said again, a little more forcefully. Tshion’s fingers danced over the shaft in a slow upward motion, and Selarcis knew he had to do something, anything, to stop it. His arm tightened against Tshion’s hand, and his free hand flew back to his brother’s wrist. Tshion’s arm tightened, but his fingers continued to dance; it was no use trying to pull his arm away.

Selarcis arched, trying to find some way to get out from under his brother’s touch, before it was too late. Words drifted to his ears, and he stilled in shock. “Don’t deny me this, Sel. I know you’re right there. You can’t fight me forever.” The moment of shock allowed Tshion to work his way up the shaft further. “I want to watch you as you lose it, Sel.” The words were barest breath. “I promise,” he continued, “I promise you I’ll let go once you do – but don’t deny me this.”

Selarcis hand dropped from Tshion’s wrist and twisted itself, like its twin, into the bedding. The words, the touches, the slow movement within him, the sight of his brother’s eyes flicking between his face and his cock, waiting, straining with all he was worth to stop the flood of everything to do -this- to his own brother…

The dance of Tshion’s fingers brushed against the sensitive spot just under Selarcis’ head, and the older paladin barely managed to grate out Tshion’s name before his world crashed around him. Shock, unbelievable pleasure, release, relief, and something sweeter, deeper than anything he’d ever felt in his life descended and threw him into the air, and he was nothing but dancing sparks as Tshion’s hand caught the flood and kept it from going too far.

Not that Selarcis knew.

Or cared.

The first thing he registered as he came back down, panting, was that Tshion was looking at him with slight surprise, and a shy smile. The second thing he noticed was that he was also looking at his own hand, dripping. The third was that Tshion was still moving.

Tshion’s hand lowered and he pressed it against the edge of the bed as he leaned down. “Thank you, brother; for everything,” he whispered against Selarcis’ ear.

Selarcis opened his mouth, but found his words cut off by a kiss, and Tshion’s movements began to intensify; slow and languid became fast and deliberate became sharp and desperate.

Tshion moaned, then turned his head to bite Selarcis’ shoulder again, making his brother gasp in shock. His arms were free, and he wrapped them around Tshion’s shoulders, turning his head to press feather kisses to whatever skin was in his reach. Tshion was shivering with need, as though the sharp thrusts weren’t enough after denying for so long.

Tshion kept his mouth where it was, knowing that if he didn’t he’d wake the entire Garrison. The tiny desperate noises weren’t enough and too much at the same time. He felt Selarcis tighten around him, could feel the rhythmic pull of his muscles as he was encouraged, but it wasn’t enough and it was too much, and his body screamed. He bit down hard on Selarcis’ shoulder and tasted copper, though he couldn’t register it as his body finally responded, the heat building to breaking point as he slid his arms under Selarcis and pulled him upward against him, helpless to stop his muscles from locking, the tightening between his thighs and finally – finally…

Selarcis gasped again, in shock, again. /This is getting to become habit…/ He could feel his brother’s heat, this time within, and felt it escaping down along his cleft. If he hadn’t already been spent, he probably would have come again, just from that sensation alone. He could feel every pulse, every twitch, every individual eruption, and couldn’t believe his brother was capable of…

Then again, mageroyal, combined with weeks of celibacy in the company of one’s lover, with added emotional turmoil and physical shock could do many things.

Tshion collapsed against him, his head lifting just enough to pull his mouth away from his brother’s shoulder, with a small moan. His spent cock slid out, too over-lubricated to remain where it was.

Selarcis took over, gently maneuvering his brother’s body with both legs and feet so he could slide an arm around and under him to hold him close, his body twisting to lay partially on his side so his other arm could drape over him. He waited for Tshion’s breathing to calm, running his fingertips over the stitches in his side.


	10. Interlude II - Make me Listen

Tshion’s breathing finally calmed, and his shivering finally subsided. He shifted slightly so he was more comfortably propped against his brother’s body, and turned his head to lay it against the shoulder beneath it. His eyes half-opened, and he made a soft, questioning noise.

“Welcome back,” the reply came, soft and slightly amused. Selarcis looked down at his brother, still very surprised, and now fully awake. “Do you feel better?” Tshion’s head moved in a nod. “Can’t speak?” Tshion’s head shook. Selarcis patted his arm. “It’s all right. You don’t need to; you’ve said everything you need to say.” He brushed a kiss to Tshion’s forehead. “Rest now.” Another nod replied.

Tshion’s breathing slowed, and it was only moments before he was asleep. Selarcis turned his head to look at the crystal, and chuckled softly. He lifted a hand and held up a finger to it, asking the other end to wait.

When he was certain Tshion was deeply in sleep – which took a shockingly short amount of time, Selarcis worked himself free, propping his brother’s body up against pillows and blankets, then draped a thinner blanket over him. He located his clothing and gathered it, then poked his head out to the hall – empty. He padded out and down to the bathing chamber and cleaned himself up and slipped his pants on. He then dug up a couple of washcloths and dipped them into the hot pool so they’d still be warm when he got back to Tshion’s room. Once his brother was clean again, he returned the cloths to the laundry, and retrieved the crystal from the table in Tshion’s room.

He padded across the hall and settled himself in the armchair in his room – which mirrored Tshion’s – before setting the crystal down on the table and half-glaring at it.

"Jelah... I thought I told you that /I/ would be contacting you when we were finished. Not during!" Selarcis hissed at the mage snickering next to the shadowy figure of another, slighter elf.

Jelah shook his head. "To good! Couldn't..." He was grinning and gesturing like a mad troll.

Selarcis sighed and rolled his eyes. "Jelah, tell Bri that I wish to speak with her." Jelah frowned playfully and handed the crystal over to the female elf.

"Don't pout, I'll give it back in a moment." Briyanna's eyes focused on Selarcis. "What do you need, demon-spawn?"

Selarcis scoffed. "Please! That was completely under the codes of Healing! Mostly..." He blushed, then coughed. "You need to be going for a few moments. Jelah and I need to have a little talk..."

Briyanna chuckled. "It was actually, technically, entirely under the codes of Healing. I only wish we'd detected it sooner; we could have saved him so much pain." She grinned at his blush. "However, you looked rather like you were enjoying yourself." She looked at Jelah, then nodded. "Man-talk, I presume? All right, but before you settle for the night, I'd like to speak with you privately after I've put Jelah to sleep."

Selarcis nodded. "It won't be long, he needs his rest." He shifted slightly in his chair.

Jelah glanced up at Bri and pouted again.

Briyanna looked down at the mage and smiled as she handed the crystal back to him. "Don't look at me like that. You need to sleep, Jelah." She patted his shoulder, then vanished from view.

Selarcis sighed softly, and waited a moment so Briyanna had time to leave the room. "You should have told me he was that aggressive! I was not expecting that, Jelah!" He pouted for a moment.

Jelah chuckled slight and shot him a glance. "Like?"

Selarcis blushed. "Perhaps... and what did you hear?" He glared at the mage, willing the truth out of him.

Jelah looked away for a moment, then returned his gaze to the paladin. "Everything... I..." He sighed and sagged slightly in his bed. “See… him?” he pleaded.

Selarcis nodded then waved his hand. "He’s completely passed out; you saw that. We will be back in the morning Jelah; you need to get some rest." He smiled reassuringly.

Jelah sighed, but said nothing. His eyes clearly said that he was tired, but if he wasn’t tired, he’d have continued pestering.

Briyanna returned a moment later, a mug in her hands. "You two done?" She looked between the crystal and the mage for a moment, one eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

Jelah pouted once more in Bri's direction. "Please?" He blinked slowly trying to keep the priestess at bay so he could keep begging the paladin to see his mate.

Briyanna patted Jelah's head, then his shoulder. "Tomorrow, Jelah. They'll be back tomorrow. You saw that Tshion's passed out cold." Gently, she put the mug in his hand. "Here," she said softly, "drink this."

Jelah sighed and exchanged the mug for the crystal. He muttered something before sipping at the warm beverage. He smiled and drank it more greedily until he lapped up the last drop on the bottom of the mug.

Briyanna chuckled. "Note to self: Add cinnamon to all of Jelah's medicines." She gently took the empty mug from his hands and set it on the table. "Feel sleepy?"

Jelah nodded slightly, not even noticing her first comment. He slowly slid down into the covers and settled himself.

Briyanna chuckled. "Sleep well, Jelah." She took the crystal with her as she left Jelah's room and slipped into the one next to it.

Selarcis cocked an eyebrow at Briyanna. "What did you give him?! I've never seen him go out like a candle..."

Briyanna smiled. "Green tea with cinnamon and honey. No sedatives, no hidden ingredients." She settled herself in a comfortable chair, and picked up a mug with her free hand. "The exact same thing I'm drinking."

"Well... I'll have to remember that. Thank you." He smirked and reclined slightly in his chair. "There is something you wanted to ask me?" He tilted his head.

Briyanna sipped from her mug. "Yes, two things, actually." She set the mug down, her face serious. "First, and most importantly, we have to get him out of here, Sel."

Selarcis pondered for a moment. "He can't be ready to move so soon; his speech patterns have not yet returned to normal." He peered at her. "Do you have something in mind, Briyanna?"

Briyanna nodded. "It... may be painful for him, but I think we need to speed-Heal his leg and get him home." She shivered a little, and picked up her tea again, setting the crystal on the table.

Selarcis sighed and nodded. "I can see what you mean. Tshion might be able to help in the process as well. Unless you feel that perhaps one of the others from the Halls would be best." He stood up and walked over to his satchel for a moment, then returned with a small pouch.

Briyanna nodded. "Tshion will be able to keep Jelah calm." She paused, sipping her tea. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can do it alone. With you, however, I think we can manage it." She peered at him as he moved. "He's been cooped up too long, and with his mind working again, he's dangerous."

Selarcis pulled a skin drinking flask from the pouch and took a long drink. "You are right, he has become dangerous. I don't think we will have a problem finishing the process of his leg. Do you want us to be there at the sun's rise, or before? Sooner the better?" He shifted slightly and his shirt tugged to show a perky nipple.

Briyanna lifted an eyebrow. "I hope that's not alcoholic. As for when, not long after sun's rise. I will have to tell Jelah a little bit about what we plan to do." Her eyes drop to the nipple then quickly rise again. "I would say the sooner, the better, but there's no point in waking Jelah too early, and there's no point in rushing you especially after what you've just been through. I need you with all of your strength."

Selarcis nodded and his shirt shifted back to a looser fit. "Not at all, just some spring water. That plan sounds perfect to me." He smiled and sat up straight. "Anything else, Lady Briyanna?" He placed his hands onto the table and relaxed slightly.

Briyanna nodded. "Actually there is." She blushed. "I may wish to make an appointment for your - ah - services."

Selarcis went wide eyed for a moment. "I... uh..." He almost fell out of his chair. "I assume this is going to be completely on the record as a healing visitation? Or...?" He peered at her for a moment.

Briyanna set her tea down and spread her hands, palms up. "Who heals the Healer?" she asked. "Let me put it this way: I got quite the eyeful this evening, and I had to keep Jelah from doing anything about what we saw." She smiled. "The reason I want to get him out of here is because of that. I can feel his - ah - distress from here." She reached over and picked her tea up again. "So yes. On the record as a Healing visitation."

Selarcis smiled and shook his head. "Then I'm okay with it. We will talk more when we arrive there tomorrow?" He gave her a slight smirk before 'looking' for his water flask.

Briyanna laughed. "Why wouldn't you be? Should I have requested a personal visit?"

Selarcis blushed slightly. "You’re practically married; I don't do personal visits with anyone that is mated, bonded.. well," he coughed, "nor in any type of solid relationship."

Briyanna nodded. "I know. But in a case such as mine? It's not like Elesen is easily reachable; his work takes him for months at a time, and if he's deeply involved in something... I can't reach him at all." She leaned back in the chair and sighed. "Other than him, I make no personal visitations of that sort." She grinned at him. "But sometimes, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I couldn't help Jelah - I'm the wrong gender. So getting him home and with Tshion - or you - is the best thing we can do for him, and my request is the only thing that I am able to do for myself."

Selarcis nodded and frowned a bit. "I feel sorry that you are in such a position, but I am glad that I can help you this way." He gave he a genuine smile of sincerity.

Briyanna smiled. "As am I, and deeply grateful. We can discuss details when we're done with Jelah." She finished her tea. "I should be in with him by the time you arrive, and I'll let him know what we'd like to try."

Selarcis stretched. "Sounds good to me, thank you for the lovely chat." He smiled and grabbed the crystal.

"I should be thanking you." Briyanna giggled. "I'm sure we all had a lovely evening, chat included." She reached for the crystal on the table. "Sleep well, Selarcis."

"You as well, Lady Briyanna." He smiled and deactivated the crystal. He sighed as he set the crystal onto the table and headed for Tshion's room.

Tshion hadn’t moved an inch since Selarcis left the room. His brother smiled and found Tshion’s shirt and pants and draped them over the chair’s arm, then slid his pants off and draped them with his shirt on the other arm.

Gently, carefully, Selarcis began shifting pillows and blankets aside, carefully insinuating himself back where he had been before the artificial had replaced him. Tshion murmured in his sleep, and Selarcis smiled, pulling his brother close to him, knowing the comfort another person’s contact could bring. He leaned up just enough to blow out the lantern, plunging them into darkness.

Listening to his brother’s soft breathing, Selarcis joined him in slumber.

  
Selarcis woke as pre-dawn turned the sky a light grey. He looked down at Tshion, but didn’t want to wake him just yet. He carefully slid out of bed and dressed.

As he poked his head out of the room, he heard movement from the rest of the barracks, and followed other sleepy-eyed warriors to find something portable to bring back for breakfast. In the end, he wound up back down the road at the tavern, where he was able to get fresh dumplings, remembering he and Tshion wanted to bring some back for Jelah, and at the barracks, he procured fresh bread, fruit, and tea.

Tshion stirred at the tempting smells while Selarcis set it on the table, mindful to move Tshion’s books out of the way.

“Sel?” Tshion sat up, his hair tousled, his eyes dull with sleep.

“Good morning, brother!” Selarcis greeted him cheerfully. “I brought us some breakfast so we could talk. Sit up and wake up a little; I’m going to get another chair.” Before Tshion could answer, Selarcis swept across the hall and pulled in the chair from his own room.

Tshion was sitting up, wincing slightly. “I need another bath,” he complained softly as his brother handed him his clothing.

“We both do, but breakfast first, to let the others clear so it’s not so crowded.” Selarcis held up a hand to forestall any protests. “Trust me, I’ve done this in the past. We also have a bit to talk over before we move into an area we’d be overheard.”

Tshion lifted an eyebrow, pausing in the task of pulling his pants on. “Dare I ask?”

“It’s nothing sinister,” Selarcis assured him. “In fact, you may be rather grateful in the end.” He poured tea into two mugs and passed one to Tshion as the other paladin stood up to move to a chair.

“Now you worry me,” Tshion answered, now suspicious.

Selarcis waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be. Be careful, the bread is buttered and still warm so it might drip.” He picked up his tea and looked Tshion over. The stitches would have to come out before they set off, he decided. No need for Jelah to see them up close. “I talked with Briyanna last night.”

Tshion paused as he moved a slice of bread to his plate. “You what? When? How?”

Selarcis opened his mouth, blushed, and covered it with a bite of the bread he’d already moved. He took his time in chewing and swallowing. “Well, um. Y’see… She and Jelah kind of saw a bit of what went on last night.” He winced, expecting Tshion to explode at him.

He wasn’t expecting Tshion to stare at him and turn a very interesting blend of red and purple. “They… what?” Selarcis could see the gears turning in Tshion’s sleep-fuzzed brain. “Oh Light no… Those voices… The crystal…”

Selarcis nodded. “Exactly. I scolded Jelah already; he was supposed to wait for -me- to contact -him- but, well, in his own words, it was ‘too good’ and he ‘couldn’t pass up the chance’. Briyanna had come in when she felt him open a portal.”

“Portal?” Tshion asked sharply.

“He, er, moved my jar of lubricant from my pants,” Selarcis pointed at the armor rack, “from over there to the table where I could reach it.” Tshion’s face went slack with shock. “Briyanna saw what was going on, and kept Jelah from doing anything else.” He took another bite. “So after you were asleep, I had a few words with Jelah before Briyanna put him to sleep, and Briyanna had an interesting proposition.” Tshion stared at his brother, the bread in his hand forgotten. “Eat, Tshion – you’ll need your strength today.”

“Planning on running me around the ring?” Tshion asked, taking a bite of his bread.

“No, actually. Briyanna suggested that we speed-Heal Jelah’s leg, and get him home.” Selarcis sighed. “Jelah’s mind is working fully again, and being cooped up is going to make him restless, more so than he was before his head decided to drain. His reflexes are going to be faster. The next time he panics, we may not get to him in time to stop him from casting.” Tshion stared at him, and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Selarcis interrupted him before he could get a word out. “Arcane Explosion; Bri and I felt it before he could pull his resources, and managed to distract him in time. Had he been at full function, he’d have cast it before any of us could feel it, and he would have hurt someone.”

Tshion nodded, swallowing. “I… I was really hoping he wouldn’t try. I’d hoped if he did, I’d be there.”

Selarcis’ face softened, and he looked down at his plate. “Just so you know, Tshion, I had no other choice. I was the first one to get to him.”

“You drained him,” Tshion said flatly.

“Just enough to distract and stop the spell.” Selarcis sighed. “You know I hate it as much as you do, and I would rather you had been the one to do it; he’s your lover.”

“That doesn’t upset me, Selarcis. It’s the fact that it had to come to that.” Tshion sighed and picked up his tea. “What’s done is done. Had he been thinking, he may also have realized what it would take to stop him, and aborted it before one of us had to.”

“True, but still. What if the next time something like that happens, he calls Fire, not Arcane?”

Tshion shivered. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“So you see the lines Briyanna thought along.” Tshion nodded. “She said she can’t do it herself, but she and I could. We need you to keep him calm.”

“Calm?” Tshion asked, polishing off his slice of bread.

“Speed-Healing hurts. Instead of soothing, it’s forceful. He can’t have sedatives. He can’t have pain-killers.” Selarcis reached for a dumpling. “So it’ll be up to you to keep him calm.”

“His leg was doing fairly well when we left,” Tshion mused, also picking up a dumpling. “So it shouldn’t be too horrible.”

Selarcis nodded grimly. “That’s what I’m hoping too.”

They finished breakfast and Selarcis bundled the leftover dumplings to take to Jelah. The bathing chamber was indeed empty, and they found that a good wash and a short soak rejuvenated them. Tshion, however, caught sight of Selarcis’ shoulder and apologized for the ragged bite mark that he’d left there the night before.

Selarcis grinned, waving a hand dismissively. “Character, Tshion! These types of things give me character! Now others will wonder just what kind of wonders I worked on someone so well that they had to bite me so hard!” Tshion only blushed and threw a towel at his brother.

By the time they had packed their things and moved the chair back into Selarcis’ room, the first sun’s rays were touching the ground. Selarcis insisted they take the time to remove the stitches in Tshion’s side, so they found the med-tent and the young male who had applied the stitches in the first place. He fussed over the wound for a moment, then gently cut the stitches free and pulled them out, and applied the same cream to the area as Selarcis had originally. Once he professed himself satisfied with the state of the now-healed wound, Tshion thanked him, and they went to find Yumi again.

They found Yumi near the ring and thanked him, promising to return, with Jelah in tow the next time. “See that you do!” the pandaren exclaimed. “The more, the merrier, and we can see if you can handle more than what we threw at you, hm?”

The sun had crept higher than Selarcis liked as he transformed again into a Sandstone dragon, and they set off back to the Monastery.


End file.
